


The Fools We Are As Men

by starbuckscully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Reconciliation, References to Suicide, Second Time, Switching, Third Time, You get the idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuckscully/pseuds/starbuckscully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate is a sexy evil bitch, and she’s none too happy with Castiel. When he goes to the Winchesters for sanctuary, he begins on a road of self-discovery that leads him to learn that when it comes to love, there's no such thing as too far gone or time run out. Along the way the trio encounters truth telling ghosts, demon circus performers, Appalachian cougars, Peruvian pit vipers, philosophical showers, metaphorical pizzas, and <em>way</em> too many diner menus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hard Way To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> _Are your angels just children laughing insane  
>  At the fools we are as men?_
> 
>   
> 
> 
> A few things to note:  
>  -I wrote this in the middle of Season 8 so I have left some things in the beginning deliberately vague.  
>  -Chapter titles are Ryan Adams songs and the epigraphs are lyrics. You can listen to all the tracks on my tumblr: <http://x-cetera.tumblr.com/tagged/tfwaam/chrono> but they're not essential to the story.  
>  -This is my first time writing fan fiction, so please be nice! :) 

_And it's a hard way to fall / And this ain't the easy way down  
And it's a hard thing to love anyone, anyhow_

  
Dean flopped heavily into the flimsy motel chair and kicked his legs out with a sigh. He glanced around for the tv remote while unscrewing a fresh bottle of whiskey just acquired from the gas station up the road. Sam had gone off to the county library to follow a lead on a local haunted house, so with any luck Dean would have a few hours to relax by himself with a much needed drink and a mindless action movie marathon. After the last couple of days they’d had, he could really use the break. God, he hated witches.

Just as he was settling in comfortably, a familiar _whoosh_ of flapping wings immediately behind him jolted him forward. He leapt to his feet, barely avoiding tumbling right onto the floor in his surprise. Swear to God, it’s like angels have never heard of doors!

“What the hell, Cas?!” Dean whipped around, glass still in hand, splashing precious liquor in all directions. As he caught sight of Cas, though, concern instantly replaced annoyance.

Cas swayed on his feet, eyes glazed and expression unfocused. His hair was mussed and trench coat dirty, but most disturbing was the blood. So much blood. _Too much._ It trickled from the inner corners of Cas’s eyes like freakish crimson tears. Dark streams of it dripped onto his cheeks from little circular punctures on his forehead and temples. It reminded Dean of those horrible, sadistic old paintings of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns.

“Shit, Cas! What happened??” Dean dropped his glass and rushed to him. He grabbed the angel by the shoulders to try to stabilize him. Cas slumped forward into him.

“I’m not sure…” Cas murmured into Dean’s shirt. “Samandriel… metal probes… thought I could fix things but…” his words faded away as his eyelids slid closed.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, pulling him back and shaking him to consciousness. “Stay with me, man! Is anyone after you?”

Cas blinked and struggled to focus on Dean. For a moment it looked like he would slip away again, but something in Dean’s worried – okay, damn near panicked – expression must have impelled him to stay in the present.

“No, no… I do not think I’m being followed.”

“Are you hurt? What the hell is all this blood?” Dean demanded. He released his grip on one shoulder for a moment to run a thumb across Cas’s cheek, wiping away some of the warm liquid.

“I can’t remember exactly…” Cas replied and scrunched up his brows in confusion. “I think I healed myself... so tired now…” 

Dean observed that the wounds on Cas’s head seemed to have already stopped bleeding. Maybe he had used up so much angel mojo fixing himself and transporting here that he’d worn himself right out. That could explain why he was so loopy now. Maybe he just needed to rest and recharge a bit. Dean very much hoped that was all it was.

“Just come on and sit down, alright?”

He led Cas over to one of the motel beds and gently lowered him to sit on the mattress. Dean hunched over him and anxiously started inspecting his injuries. Blood had dripped all over his coat. Ugh blood stains – Dean knew from experience that those would be a bitch to get out. Dean eased the coat off Cas’s shoulders and pulled his arms out of the sleeves, then did the same with the suit jacket. Dean froze when he saw the condition of Cas’s now exposed wrists. They were swollen and red, and the skin was chaffed and bleeding in spots.

He took Cas’s hands in his own and soothingly rubbed his thumbs in circles on the inside of Cas’s wrists.

“Cas?” Dean spoke to him softly. “What happened here?”

Cas looked at Dean blankly.

“Your wrists? It’s like you’ve been chained up or something?” Dean suggested.

“Oh… yes, I remember now – handcuffs. Silver with gold…”

Well that didn’t explain much. Dean looked back down at the poor puffy joints. Wait a sec – what was _that_? He pulled out a piece of golden thread from inside Cas’s sleeve. He wasn’t wearing anything that color. It was an unnaturally bright hue, anyways, not something anyone short of Elton John would be caught wearing probably. Dean pocketed the string and mentally filed it away to ponder later.

Reluctantly he put Cas’s hands back down and returned to looking him over for injuries. The rest of Cas’s clothes were probably ruined for good. His dress shirt was slashed across his chest and stained red, though the skin beneath seemed to be intact. Had Cas healed himself there too, or was Dean missing something? Dean flipped Cas’s backwards tie over his shoulder and started to unbutton the shirt to get a better look. He hoped Cas didn’t mind him undressing him like this. ‘Desperate times’ and all that. He got the shirt mostly undone and pulled the fabric back. More blood, but no obvious gashes. Dean ran his hand lightly across Cas’s chest to double check.

“Mmm…” Cas hummed.

Dean jerked his hand back and gave Cas an inquiring look. The angel’s head was tipped back, eyes shut. Okay then… Guess Cas was just _really_ out of it. Still, that was probably enough touching. He buttoned back up a couple of buttons to keep the shirt more or less in place.

Dean sat back and took in the whole train wreck that was Cas’s present appearance. The angel’s blunt assessment of Kevin a few months earlier popped into his head.

“You look terrible,” Dean said to him. He made a weak attempt at a laugh.

Cas just opened his eyes a sliver and glanced absently at Dean before shutting them again. So much for lightening the atmosphere. This was not going well. Cas looked like he was going to keel over at any moment.

“Well, you can’t stay in those bloody clothes.” Dean decided to take charge of the situation. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll find you something else to wear.” It felt weird suggesting the angel do something as human as take a shower, but, well, he could use one. Plus, it would give Dean a few minutes to think about what to do next.

Cas opened his eyes and started to stand up but quickly lost his balance and toppled back, landing half on top of Dean.

“Woah, buddy!” Dean chuckled and grabbed Cas’s shoulders again to help him stand. Once he seemed steady on his feet, Dean patted him on the back and joked, “I hope you can stay up, because I’m not helping you out in the shower!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean realized the double entendre and felt his cheeks begin to warm. And as soon as he felt the blush, Dean mentally berated himself for acting like such a girl. What the hell, man – it was just Cas! He probably didn’t even know that sounded weird. He looked over nervously at Cas and saw that the angel had already turned away and was padding over to the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later Dean heard the water turn on. When the noise wasn’t immediately followed by the sound of a body plunking to the floor, Dean figured Cas was okay, and relaxed a little. He lifted his duffel bag onto the bed and starting rummaging through it for something suitable for Cas to wear. Muddy jeans, grimy shirts, rank socks. Belatedly he wished that they’d stopped at that laundromat one town back. He contemplated pulling something out of Sam’s bag of neatly folded outfits, but the mental image of Cas swimming in Sam’s oversized clothes just made him snort in amusement, so he continued the archeological dig into the lowermost layers of his bag. He pulled out a long sleeved black t-shirt and held it up to his face to sniff. That'd do. He tossed it on the mattress. A dark pair of skinny jeans crammed into a corner caught his eye and made him chuckle in spite of himself. How the hell had Sam convinced him to buy those girlie jeans? He didn’t care how many shape shifters were cruising that gay bar, it had _not_ been worth it to blend in to the crowd by wearing those ball crushing torture pants. But Cas was slimmer than Dean, so he thought it should be a decent fit. Soon he had excavated some passably clean boxers and socks to join the rest on the bed.

Dean realized he should probably put the clothes in the bathroom so Cas could get dressed without having to stroll out in just a towel. Cas in just a towel… an unbidden image sprang to Dean’s mind of the angel with skin glistening wet and soaked hair flattened to his forehead, emerging from the bathroom surrounded by hot steam and wearing nothing but a conveniently small towel tied low around his waist. Jesus - what was THAT? Dean wondered if _he_ weren’t actually the one with drill holes in his skull.

He physically shook himself to get rid of the disturbing image and shuffled over to the bathroom to deliver the clothing. He stopped and stared at the doorknob. He could still hear the water running on the other side. He raised his hand then paused and let it fall back.

“Ahh, Cas?” Dean coughed and made a face at the ground. “I’m, uh, just going to crack open the door here and, uh, toss some clothes to you, okay?”

No answer. Well, he was warned. Dean opened the door a smidgen and threw in the clothes. Damnit, there’d better be a towel in there – a _large_ towel – because he was not coming back to give him one. As the clothes arced away from his outstretched arm, Dean straightened up and started to pull shut the door. As he did so he caught just a glimpse of pale skin behind foggy glass. Fuck! Dean pulled the door shut a little too forcefully. Fuck fuck fuck! Now he’s slamming doors for no good reason? Well if that didn’t get Cas’s attention! Though now that he thought about it – why was he still thinking about it?? – Cas had been standing completely motionless in the stall as the water pelted his body. Typical weird angel stuff, all stiff posture and no sense of human concepts like personal space and, you know, _moving_ while taking a shower? Or had his brain been probed to goo and he’d just rusted to the spot like the friggin’ Tin Man? Damnit.

“Ahh, Cas?” Dean called for the second time in as many minutes. “Um, everything okay in there?”

Still no answer. Dean sighed and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. Well, here went nothing. He opened the door and took a step in, raising one hand like a shield over his eyes as he reached down and grabbed a towel off the floor.

“Cas?” Dean tried again, slowly advancing. He peeked up and noted that Cas still had his back to him, standing in the shower like a statue. Like a statue of a beautiful, toned, Greek God, more like. Jesus! Again! Dean took the towel in both hands and raised it up to what he approximated as ass level, then walked the rest of the way up to the shower.

“Cas!” he bellowed. “Ground control to Major Tom!” He knocked on the glass awkwardly, towel still in his grip.

_Finally_ Cas turned around. His eyes were raised toward the ceiling and he wore an expression of pure ecstasy.

“Hello Dean.” Cas looked down and met his eyes. He smiled at Dean like he had just discovered the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

“Hell – ‘ _hello Dean_ ’??” Dean’s whole body sighed in an expression of utter exasperation. Shit, the towel! He raised the towel back up to an appropriate level and tried to tell himself that the hot flash creeping up his neck was just ‘cause it was so warm and steamy in the bathroom.

“You know,” Cas began in a tone of wonderment, “if there had never been the fall from Eden, man would never have known the despair of sin, and yet would also never have known the joy of forgiveness. In the same way, if one has never been utterly dirty, one can never know the bliss of a shower. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “ _Okay_ then! Well I was just checking to make sure your wires hadn’t short circuited or something, so, um, here’s a towel and some clothes.” He tossed the towel over the top of the glass door and spun around without waiting to see if Cas caught it. He strode out of the bathroom and closed the door – gently this time – rolling his eyes and feeling a bit sheepish. Angels, man.


	2. Hotel Chelsea Nights

_And I'm just trying to get a little sleep / Strung out like some Christmas lights  
Out there in the Chelsea night_

  
If he had to admit it, Dean was extremely relieved that Cas seemed more relaxed now, even if he was having weird philosophical revelations in the shower. He had not liked one bit how fragile and hunted Cas had looked when he arrived. And if he was still admitting things, it had even _scared_ Dean to see the angel that way. Whatever was going on, Dean was going to get to the bottom of it. Nobody could hurt his angel and walk away. Um, _the_ angel. Cas. Anyways –

Dean sighed and flopped down on a bed. Ouch fuck! Too late he found the tv remote digging into his back. He shifted to get at the remote and settled into a comfortable position propped up on some pillows against the headboard. So much for that relaxing evening. He switched on the tv anyways and starting flipping channels. He eventually settled on a _Back to the Future_ marathon, and if he paused a bit longer than necessary on Dr. Sexy while spinning the dial, well, no one was there to notice.

Finally he heard the water shut off and some clumsy shuffling and clunking noises emanating from the bathroom. He resisted the urge to go make sure Cas hadn’t fallen over and broken his skull, and was rewarded a minute later when the angel strode out, all in one piece (and wearing more than just a towel).

Dean could tell by Cas’s exhausted look that he had already come down a fair bit from his hot water induced high. But damn, did he clean up good. Dean swallowed and tried not to stare. Cas’s skin was so smooth (don’t think of friggin’ Greek statues), and his hair stuck nearly straight up in a way that should have been ridiculous but ended up looking more endearingly adorable than anything else. And his clothes… Dean had always found it really sexy when a woman wore his too-big button up shirts or boxer shorts, usually after a late, hot night… but he never imagined the effect it would have on him to see _Cas_ in his t-shirt and jeans.

Even Dean’s skinny jeans were a bit loose on Cas, though, and some pelvic bone was showing as the angel tried to adjust the pants to not sag so low. Dean’s jaw twitched and he cleared his throat.

“Cas, buddy, I think you need a belt.” Dean hopped up to dig around in his duffel again, then handed over a plain leather belt.

Cas took the offering and stared at it in his hands, brows scrunched and frowning. Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas saw Dean looking at him and awkwardly started to wrap the belt around his waist, completely ignoring the belt loops and fumbling with the latch as if he could just use the thing like a tourniquet to keep his pants up.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean saw what Cas was doing and nearly guffawed. “How many millennia old…? Tell me you know how to dress yourself!”

“I have always been content with the outfit my vessel was wearing when I came to occupy him,” Cas stated defensively.

“Oh shut up,” Dean laughed and walked over to Cas, grabbing the belt out of his hands. “Here, watch how easy.”

Dean took one end of the belt and started weaving it through the loops on Cas’s pants, reaching around to pass it to his other hand when he reached the back. He could feel the humid warmth emanating from Cas’s freshly bathed body and Dean realized he was very much in violation of his own personal space rules. He hurried up and pulled through the last loop, and fastened the buckle in the front. On the second try. Maybe he’d been in a bit too much of a hurry.

When he let go and looked back up at Cas, the angel was staring down at him with a most peculiar, half-smiling, cryptic expression. Dean didn’t know what to make of it, but he was already starting to feel hot under his collar again. He clapped his hands and gestured as if to say _tah dah_ then stepped back a few paces.

“So, uh, are you hungry?” Dean inquired. “We could have a pizza delivered or something.”

“A pizza delivery??” Cas asked excitedly, eyes suddenly wide and hopeful for some indiscernible reason.

“Uhh sure… doesn’t have to be pizza though. I could go get us burgers? Or Chinese?” Dean eyed Cas skeptically. Maybe his wires had gotten crossed after all.

“Oh.” Cas looked strangely disappointed. “I’m not hungry.”

“Okay then,” Dean shrugged. Angels were just weird.

“Where’s Sam?” Cas asked.

“Oh yeah, he’s at the library checking up on some spook who’s scaring the crap out of your typical up-to-no-good teens around here. Some abandoned farmhouse outside town. You know, the usual. Want to get it wrapped up before those dumbass ‘ghostfacers’ show up again.” Dean made a face of disgust. “He should be back in an hour or two.”

Cas nodded slightly and looked over at the door.

“Hey, you know you’re staying here, right?” Dean asked when he saw where Cas was looking, suddenly afraid that the angel would fly off on him without warning like he’d done so many times before. “I don’t want heaven’s Dr. Szell to go all Marathon Man on your brain. Just lay low and hang out with me and Sam until we get this all figured out, okay?”

“I don’t understand that reference –“

Dean rolled his eyes.

“- but thank you,” Cas said with evident relief in his voice.

Dean plopped down on the bed, and leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Then have a seat and get ready to experience an American classic!” Dean nodded toward the tv.

Cas sat down next to Dean close enough that they were touching side to side on the double bed.

“Dude!” Dean dropped his arms and turned to face Cas. He was about to make abundantly clear that he had meant for him to sit down on the other bed when he saw the way Cas looked up at him through those long dark lashes. The cleanliness euphoria had come and gone and Cas’s expression was tinged with what Dean could swear was a little bit of fear – rare as that was for the angel. And mixed in with the fear was a look of confident trust in Dean that he’d seen in Cas’s eyes before but had never felt he deserved. Something in Dean’s chest twisted and the words he’d been about to say died on his tongue.

“Nevermind,” he muttered, shifting a bit on the bed so they weren’t quite so pressed together.

Cas seemed to accept the aborted thought and turned back to the tv. Soon Dean forgot that they were practically cuddling like girls at a slumber party, and happily took on the task of catching up Cas on all that had happened in the first two _Back to the Future_ movies so that he could sufficiently appreciate the one that was on now. At first Cas stared at the tv with his usual intensity as Dean attempted to explain the complex string of causalities in the film, not to mention all the pop culture references that the angel surely wouldn’t know. But as the night grew later and Dean’s ramblings more intermittent, Cas drifted off to sleep with his head drooping onto Dean shoulder.

When the movie ended, Dean noticed with a start the shaggy head of black hair immediately below his chin. Man was he glad Sammy wasn’t here to see this – he’d never hear the end of it! Now he just had to quietly slip away without waking Cas. It was a skill Dean had developed over the years with countless women, and he prided himself on this particular entry in his catalogue of smooth moves. As he started to pull away, though, Cas made a disgruntled noise and curled up closer to Dean. Shit. Dean waited a minute for the angel’s breathing to go back to a regular rhythm then tried the move again. Hug and roll, baby, easy as pi – SHIT! Cas not only snuggled up even closer, this time he raised his arm and actually clung on to Dean’s shirt while making a pathetic little whimper. Oh for fuck’s sake.

Dean looked down in irritation. Something about the sleeping angel tugged at his heartstrings, though, so instead of trying again to shove him away, Dean just raised a hand and lightly brushed Cas’s now dry hair off of his forehead. The poor guy must be so stressed out. His brow was all furrowed and his nose and mouth kept twitching like he was having a bad dream. Were angels even supposed to sleep? Dean knew from experience that Cas was inclined to creepily watch people sleep instead of getting any shuteye himself – but was the fact that he even _could_ sleep a bad sign? Dean found himself suddenly concerned much less about their napping arrangement and much more about Cas’s condition. He ran his fingers through Cas’s hair as he worried over it. As he smoothed the messy mane, Dean felt Cas begin to relax. His forehead uncrinkled, movements stilled, and breathing slowed. Dean couldn’t help but smile down at the angel. Goddamnit. Apparently Dean would be sleeping right here after all, girly slumber party or not. At least Sam wasn’t back yet. Yet. Ugh. Maybe if it were really dark his brother wouldn’t notice anything until the morning when Dean could more easily make his escape.

Dean reached out with one arm toward the light on the nightstand. So close… He groaned and leaned out a little further and felt Cas stir against his chest. Shit shit shit. He made one last lunge and caught the switch, finally plunging the room into total darkness. His stretch had displaced Cas too much though, and the angel was squirming and batting at him like he was a man drowning and Dean was dry land. Dean sighed and wrapped an arm around Cas, pulling him in close. He felt Cas cuddle up to him and sigh contentedly in his sleep. Yeah, Dean was really stuck now. Good thing Sam had shitty night vision.  

 

~*~

 

When Dean woke again it was still black in the room. Based on the condition he found himself in, he figured he must have been having a most exquisite sex dream. Too bad he couldn’t remember it. Dean shifted uncomfortably and squinted at the alarm clock. 4:34 A.M. Ugh. He grimaced as he felt a pins and needles sensation in his right arm, like something heavy had been crushing it for hours. Then he remembered.

As if on cue, a warm body snuggled up against Dean’s back. Awesome. Just freaking awesome. He hadn’t slept this close to someone since that one time he’d passed out in a girl’s dorm room and somehow managed to squeeze two bodies into her standard issue XL twin. He tried to scoot toward the edge of the bed to put some space between them. But Cas must have been having some dreams of his own, because as soon as Dean started to pull away, the angel just clung onto him tighter and pushed his whole body up against Dean’s backside while making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan.

The situation was making Dean increasingly ill at ease. And not just because he was about to fall off the side of the bed or because he was terrified that Sam would wake up and look over at any second. His body was reacting to the close contact in a most unfortunate manner. He really should get laid more often. There was no other explanation for how absurdly turned on he was getting just because he was pressed against another warm body. A _male_ warm body at that. A male _angel_ warm body!

Cas shifted again and dropped his arm around Dean’s front. Oh hell no. Dean was no one’s little spoon. He attempted to gently lift the hand that had fallen on his chest, but as he did, Cas tried to entwine his fingers with Dean’s. Dean dropped the hand like the proverbial hot potato. Suddenly left with nothing to hold on to, Cas’s hand fell back down and grabbed onto the neck of Dean’s t-shirt, pulling at the collar and brushing warm knuckles across Dean’s skin. The man was like a friggin’ Chinese finger puzzle – the more Dean pulled away, the tighter he was squeezed in!

Dean gulped and glanced across the short space between the beds to check that Sam was still sleeping soundly. All clear, good. He took in a deep breath and rolled clear off the bed, gracefully catching himself on his hands and toes and avoiding a loud thump and accompanying carpet burns. To Dean’s relief he saw that Cas had followed his motion and simply flopped onto his stomach, continuing to snooze away with his arm now hanging limply off the side of the bed.

Thank God for small miracles. Now about his other problem. Dean was so worked up at this point it was all he could do to not hump the gross motel carpet he was laying facedown on. He half crawled, half lunged into the bathroom and collapsed against the door with a sigh and click of the lock.

_Finally_. He reached down and started to stroke himself, nearly gasping at the overwhelming relief the friction provided after all that buildup. Not that his state had anything to do with being tangled up with Cas, of course. Dean was confident he had been dreaming about one of his favorite Busty Asian Beauties™ – maybe Tamara? mmm Tamara – before he had been rudely awakened and groped by his bedmate. Dean picked up the tempo as he mentally focused on some of Tamara’s finer qualities. It wasn’t that Cas was unattractive – for a dude, of course – but Dean just didn’t swing that way. Besides, Cas had been pressing up into _his_ ass, but obviously Dean would be the one to top. A completely unsolicited image sprung to Dean’s mind of Cas laying naked beneath him, hands clenched around Dean’s shoulders, looking up at him with that expression of bliss he had worn in the shower. Before he knew it Dean was coming – HARD.

“What the hell was _that_??” he blurted aloud. Dean immediately cursed himself for the noise as he heard the sounds of sheets shuffling and springs creaking in the other room as someone got out of bed. Goddamnit. He cleaned himself up quickly and flushed the toilet. He tried to still his breathing as he opened the door and affected a casual stroll back into the bedroom.

“Hey Dean,” Sam yawned as he trudged toward the bathroom.

“I was just peeing!” Dean announced a little too loudly.

“Uhhhh yeah…” Sam looked at Dean with bitch face #271 a.k.a. suddenly-suspicious-and-judging-you with a hint of wtf-my-brother-is-a-weird-one.

Dean could feel himself blushing and was grateful for the umpteenth time that it was still dark in the room. He started to shove past Sam until his brother reached out and caught him by the arm to hold him back.

“Hey, what’s Cas doing here?” Sam asked.

“Oh uh, some angel stuff, I guess,” Dean replied, looking everywhere but at Sam’s face.

“Angel stuff?” Sam prompted.

“He didn’t elaborate, okay?” Dean was getting tired fast of this late night conversation.

Sam studied him for a moment then shrugged as if to suggest they’d talk about it in the morning. When his brother let go, Dean stomped off towards the beds. A sudden inspiration came to him and he plopped down not next to Cas, but smack in the middle of Sam’s bed. The groaning springs must have been a tipoff though because his brother whirled around with a glare.

“Don’t even think about it!” Sam whispered angrily.

“Aw c’mon man,” Dean matched his brother’s volume. “I need to get some sleep in peace!”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that, but before Dean could say anything, continued, “No way. We haven’t shared a bed since we were kids and I wasn’t yet shopping in the Big & Tall section. He’s _your_ damn angel - so suck it up!”

Sam turned back and went into the bathroom, leaving Dean to sigh in frustration. Dean glanced over at Cas still sleeping soundly, if somewhat twitchily, on the other bed. He just could never catch a break. With regret he got up off Sam’s bed, grabbed a pillow, and trudged over to the table where he’d left his whiskey earlier. Foregoing the glass this time, Dean took a long drag from the bottle, then dropped the pillow on the floor and plunked down after it. His mind still raced and he rolled around trying to find a halfway comfortable position on the rock hard floor. But his release in the bathroom must have relaxed his body more than he realized for he slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep before Sam even returned to the room.


	3. I See Monsters

_And when he calls I know that he’s the one / Makes me want it harder  
Makes me want to be a little stronger / Still I see monsters_

  
Castiel woke to a bright room and a splitting headache. For a groggy moment he lay on his back and took in the white ceiling and flourescent light. Visions of shiny metal probes and memories of excruciating pain flashed through his mind. He bolted upright and looked around in a panic. Oh, just a motel room with cheap lighting. And Dean.

Dean strolled past the foot of the bed with a toothbrush in his mouth. He looked over at Castiel with a foamy smile.

“Wehcum beck sheepin booty!” Dean greeted him while continuing to brush. Castiel tilted his head and tried to determine from what language he should translate.

“How’re you feeling?” Sam asked from the other side of the room. Castiel forgot Dean’s odd utterance and turned to face the younger Winchester who was looking at him apprehensively.

“I’m well except for a pain in my skull,” he replied.

“A pain in – a headache?" Sam asked.

“Yes, I believe so."

Sam reached in his duffel and pulled out a small plastic bottle.

“Here!” he called out as he threw it over to Castiel, “Have some aspirin.”

Castiel caught the bottle, struggled with the cap for a moment, then emptied the contents into his mouth and swallowed.

“Did you just –“ Sam stared at him with eyebrows raised. “Did you just take all of the pills?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, though the question seemed entirely unnecessary.

“Don’t you remember when he drank a whole liquor store, Sammy?” Dean called out from the bathroom. Castiel heard him spit into the sink. Dean continued, “He’ll be lucky if an entire shelf of aspirin does him any good.”

Sam seemed satisfied with his brother’s reassurance, and went back to folding his clothes on the neatly made up bed.

Dean emerged from the bathroom and tipped his chin in Castiel’s direction.

“Whattaya say, Cas - hungry? Wanna get breakfast and cross off another item on your human experiences bucket list?”

Castiel was about to reply that no, of course he wasn’t hungry, when he felt a strange rumbling sensation in his abdomen. He must really be depleted if he was feeling the need to eat human food.

“Yes, I would like that,” he replied to Dean. The older Winchester looked a little surprised – and was that also a little concerned? – but quickly turned toward the door and inquired what they were all waiting for.

Castiel got up and looked around for his shoes. Dean opened the door and a cold blast of air whipped into the room.

“Hold up,” Dean said to Sam. He ruffled through his bag, tossing articles of clothing in every direction without regard for where they fell.  Meanwhile Castiel finished tying his shoelaces with some difficulty.

“Here you go.” Dean held out to Castiel a soft, greyish colored jacket that he recognized as one of Dean’s own. Dean shrugged and added, “It’s cold outside.”

Castiel accepted the coat and stood to leave. Dean backed up a few steps and looked him over from head to toe.

“Well aren’t you a sight!” he said with a smirk on his face.

“Uhh anytime guys,” Sam interrupted. Dean’s cheeks turned slightly pink and he coughed.

“Right.” Dean opened the door and strode out without a look back.

  

~*~

  

In the diner, Castiel found himself somewhat overwhelmed by the range of food items offered for selection. He carefully read each entry in the menu and matched the pictures to their corresponding entrée where available.  From the looks the Winchesters were giving him - and for that matter, the waitress standing over him and tapping her pencil repeatedly against her notepad – Castiel sensed that he was expected to make a hasty decision.

“He’ll have the pancakes special and a coffee,” Dean announced as he grabbed the menu from Castiel. As he took it, Castiel felt Dean’s hand close on top of his for just a moment. The sensation sent a brief but thrilling jolt through his body. He quickly looked out the window and tried to act like he’d felt nothing.

It was not that he could not feel such tactile sensations when he was more fully in possession of his grace, it was just that he usually _did_ not feel so intensely. It was easier to turn off and focus on higher things. Higher things than the physical pleasure of Dean’s hand on his hand… his mind wandered to other touches he and Dean could share and he began to reconsider whether anything in existence could rank higher than that after all.

“So Cas, want to tell us how you ended up a pincushion for some sadistic bastard?” Sam’s question interrupted his heretical musings.

Castiel did not in fact want to talk about how he had ended up a pincushion for some sadistic bastard. But he owed the Winchesters an explanation so he looked up at Sam. Looking at Sam instead of Dean felt easier sometimes, but he could still feel Dean’s eyes boring into him at the edge of his peripheral vision.

“Since I returned from Purgatory, I have experienced incidents in which I sensed that I was unable to account for missing time. I had no evidence that anything had occurred, however, so I continued on my mission of... of trying to make things better, in some small way, where I could.”

He paused and looked down briefly to avoid the intensity with which both Winchesters were watching him. The whole situation was distressing. He remembered very few specifics, just an overpowering sense of being in pain and afraid. He had tried to focus on reaching safety, and Dean. He knew someone had been poking at his brain and that made his present amnesia even more worrisome. He tried to think of how to explain things to the brothers honestly without troubling them further.

“I’m not sure what happened to me,” Castiel continued. “I have a vague memory of the metal probes that Crowley’s minion used to torture Samandriel. I must have been captured somehow, and what ensued was… unpleasant.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?”

“I didn’t realize that anything _was_ ‘going on’”, Castiel picked back up. “And I had no desire to burden you with my problems.”

“What about the gold thread?” Dean asked.

“What gold thread?” Castiel was confused.

Dean pulled a shiny metallic piece of string from his pocket and handed it over.

“I don’t remember this…” Castiel frowned.

“That’s okay, Cas,” Sam reassured him. “Just let us know if you do remember anything later.”

Dean still looked worried.

“I wish I could tell you more,” Castiel continued. “All I know is that whatever happened, ultimately I must have escaped. I can only conclude that I am safe for the time being. I, I – I would like to stay with you, if I may, however, until I’ve recovered my strength. If that is acceptable to you.” He finished in a rush and peered up at them nervously.

“Of course, Cas,” Sam looked at him with one of his many ‘sympathetic’ expressions that Castiel recognized. “As long as you want.”

“Yeah, Cas, don’t even worry about it,” Dean added. He dropped his hand lightly on top of Castiel’s hand on the table. Castiel looked down at it and Dean followed his gaze. Dean must have just noticed his unconscious motion because he immediately pulled his hand back and looked away.

“Just, you know, always come to us so we can help out, okay?” Dean said to the air. He seemed strangely anxious. Castiel hoped he had not done anything to make Dean uncomfortable. His memory of the day before was hazy at best.

The tension faded as the waitress arrived with their food. She placed a large plate of fluffy pancakes in front of Castiel. He looked down at the butter melting on top of the stack and let out a soft chortle.

Dean turned toward him and asked in surprise, “Cas, are you _laughing_?”

“Remember when I told you that God could not be found on any flatbread?” Castiel asked.

“Uh, yeah…”

Castiel looked back down at his plate. The butter had melted into a runny shape that bore an uncanny resemblance to traditional portrayals of Jesus. The brothers leaned over to get a look and immediately burst into raucous laughter.

“Ha! Oh God Cas, don’t ever change!” Dean wiped a mirthful tear from his eye and laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, grinning.

Castiel smiled, his headache already receding and fears fading fast. He would not dare to admit it, but in that moment a small part inside of him hoped that he wouldn’t recover _too_ quickly after all.


	4. Natural Ghost

_What parts of you were daydreams, illusions, and other things  
These things they pass in time but the moments are real and it's hard sometimes_

  
Castiel sat in the back of the Impala listening to the brothers argue over something insignificant in the front seat. At breakfast Sam had explained what he'd learned regarding the haunted house in his research the night before. He told them that there had been a woman named Claire Racine who had killed herself in the house after the man she loved died overseas in World War I. Apparently the woman had not told the man, a Jerome Balder, the nature of her feelings before he left for the war. In her grief, she lamented that he had died without ever knowing of her love and vowed to never make the same mistake again. She then broke the face of the clock on the mantelpiece with her fist, marking the time she learned of Jerome's death, and slit her wrists with a piece of the broken glass. Since then there had been many reports of bizarre occurrences at the house. The legend claimed that no two people could enter the clock room without being compelled by Claire to reveal truths of a personal nature to one another. The victims would not be released from the spell until they had left the house and its grounds entirely. As one would expect with humans, this had resulted in more than a few violent outbursts over the years. Dean and Sam had come to the town after reading about a strange murder suicide. According to the story, some teenage lovers had gone into the house to get away from their parents - and, most likely, Dean had crudely explained, to perform some illicit activities - and had stumbled into the clock room. One of youths was prompted to confess to his girlfriend that he had been unfaithful to her for some time and had in fact impregnated her best friend. The girl flew into a rage and stabbed the boy in the neck with a shard of glass that had mysteriously appeared. The others who had been listening behind a door entered the room just in time to see the girl take the sharp piece of glass to her own throat. The witnesses would not comment publicly on anything that transpired after the deaths. Sam had consulted some magical book of faces, however, and after reading the writing on some walls had determined that what ensued among the survivors was no more than "typical high school drama."

To make matters worse, Dean and Sam had learned that a pair of amateur ghost investigators with whom they were acquainted had also uncovered the story and had twittled - tweetered? twirted? - had made known their intention to visit the house as well. As a result, the brothers were in a rush to put to rest the ghost before anyone else could interfere and fall prey to her compulsions. Sam knew that she had been cremated, so there were no bones to salt and burn. But he had also seen a photograph of Claire wearing a locket that was unaccounted for in her estate, so he hoped that they would be able to locate the item somewhere in the house and destroy it, thus freeing the spirit to move on to the next plane.

As they pulled up to the haunted house, Castiel heard Dean utter a blasphemous thanks that _thosesonovabitchvideonerds_ had not arrived ahead of them. They got out of the car and loaded up on salt and iron supplies from the trunk.

"Okay, we know that Claire's bedroom was -" Sam held up a black and white photo in front of the house, "that one," he indicated a room in the upper left. "I'll go check the room for any hidden compartments, old jewelry armoires, things like that. Dean - you and Cas make a sweep of the downstairs. Watch out for any clocks, and yell if you find anything."

Dean nodded and started for the front door. Castiel followed, feeling a bit ridiculous clutching an iron fireplace poker in one hand and an ordinary saltshaker in the other. He had a suspicion that the brothers did not really expect him to take part in any fighting in his reduced state. Once in the front parlor, Castiel and Dean began their search feeling along the crumbly wallpapered walls and picking up the items haphazardly strewn about the long abandoned room. After a while, it was clear that the locket was not to be found in the parlor. Dean suggested they move on to the next room, so Castiel followed. And then the next room after that. They could hear Sam's heavy footsteps above them and assumed he also was having no luck locating the cursed charm.

As they strode into another large room with dark paneled walls and an imposing fireplace, Castiel thought he saw something shiny crammed between two floorboards over by the far wall. He leaned over to examine the item, using the fireplace poker like a cane to maintain his balance. Just an old coin, it seemed. He straightened back up.

"Damn, Cas! Don't end the show now! I was enjoying the view of that fine ass!"

Castiel stiffened. Was this some form of humor used by humans that he did not understand? Was Dean mocking him for some reason? He turned around and saw Dean, wide eyed and with a hand clasped over his gaping mouth.

"I have NO IDEA where that came from!" Dean shouted through his hand.

Castiel tilted his head and tried to understand.

"Just - just don't say a fucking word to Sam about this, you hear me??" Dean glared and pointed his finger in Castiel's face.

"I like that you like to look at my ass," Castiel felt himself say without premonition.

Now it was Dean's turn to look baffled. Castiel flinched under his scrutiny and tried in vain to come up with some explanation for his spontaneous comment. Suddenly he had an illumination.

"Dean, I think we must be in the clock room," he offered helpfully.

"No shit, Einstein!" Dean yelled back.

Castiel was not sure how to reply. Perhaps they should exit the vicinities as quickly as possible to avoid more embarrassing exchanges.

Just then they heard a barage of footsteps on the front staircase followed by Sam's voice in the hallway announcing that he had found nothing in Claire's room so the locket must be downstairs.

"Stay the hell out!" Dean leapt across the room to block Sam's entrance.

"What?" Sam asked, while giving Dean a look that conveyed both suspicion and annoyance.

"It's the goddamn clock room," Dean tried to explain. "The locket has got to be in here - we've looked everywhere else. But that bitch is working her freaky truth spell, so don't give her another victim, okay!" He physically pushed his younger brother, causing him to stumble back a few steps. Sam steadied himself easily and leaned in a bit to take in the scene in the room.

"What do you mean she's already working her truth spell?" he asked.

"Forget it! Just get lost already, ugh!" And with that, Dean slammed the door in Sam's face.

"Dean -" Castiel began.

"Shut up and help me find that damn locket!"

So Castiel shut up and joined in the search, albeit not as recklessly as Dean who was knocking over furniture, smashing vases, and generally making a mess of things in his hurry to locate the necklace.

After every vase and lamp was in pieces, every decorative wall hanging thrown to the floor, and every chair and table upended, they still had not found the locket. Castiel was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. There was an odd pressure building up in his chest. He felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of saltwater and wanted to spit it out. But he feared what he might say if he opened his mouth. He looked over at Dean who seemed to be in a similar state of disease.

Dean stared back at Cas for a minute, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"I can't find it," he sighed, defeated. He waited a moment, as if expecting something to happen now that he had spoken. When nothing did, his stance relaxed.

"I don't know what to do," Dean continued. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Cas - MOTHER OF FUCK!"

"You would be fine without me," Castiel found himself replying without so much as a pause. "You don't need me the way I need you." This was not at all what Castiel had intended to say. The tension in the room was building now to an unbearable level. Dean paced back and forth across the room, muttering under his breath.

"Look, I think we should stop talking and _justlookagainforthenecklace_ ," Dean blurted out in a rush, as if that would prevent unbidden words from slipping in.

Dean ventured a quick glance in Castiel's direction then went back to his search-and-destroy method of locating the locket, crushing and slamming apart objects with even more vigor. Castiel looked around helplessly. A place they had not yet looked occurred to him.

Castiel leaned into the fireplace and brushed away the lingering ashes on its floor. No locket. What about the chimney? He looked up into total darkness. It was still daylight outside, so he realized there must be something blocking his view. He took the fireplace poker and tapped gingerly at the surface above him. With a slightly firmer tap near one edge of the flue, the plates flew open and a massive load of debris dumped out on his head. Castiel fell to the ground and sputtered for air. More rubble fell down on him. He thought it must have been many years since anyone had cleaned out the chimney.

In an instant Dean was by his side, leaning over him and brushing the dirt and twigs and even wizened animal bones off of Castiel.

"Cas! Cas, are you okay?" Dean asked in a strained tone as he continued to pull unsavory items out of Castiel's hair.

"I -" Castiel tried to answer but ended up coughing as he inhaled a lungful of ash and dirt. He was having a hard time catching his breath, and the back of his head was throbbing where something heavy, possibly a chimney brick, had landed on him. His vision was beginning to constrict and he felt very light. As he started to fall back into the fireplace, Dean grabbed him and pulled him out into the room.

"I did not realize there was a blockage in the chimney," he explained.

"No kidding!" Dean laughed and fell back to sit down on the floor facing Castiel.

"Jesus, Cas! Be careful and don't scare me like that! You know you mean so much to me and -" Dean cut himself off with a pained expression and clenched his jaw.

Castiel felt there must be some mistake. This was _Dean Winchester_. After all the ways he had failed him, how could Dean esteem him so?

"Dean," Castiel said breathlessly. A cold feeling of dread began to weigh over him. He did not know what he was about to say but he really _really_ hoped it was not what he thought it might be.

"Dean, I, I think -" Castiel paused again, breathing quickly and praying he would pass out from hyperventilation before he finished the sentence. Dean was looking into his eyes now, almost reverently. What was that look? Was it hopeful? Apprehensive? Not for the first time, Castiel wished he understood humans better, especially Dean. Forgetting that he was still covered in chimney dirt, he reached out to Dean's shoulder, leaving a black handprint on his sleeve almost directly over the one burned into his skin beneath it.

"Dean Winchester, I lo-"

At that exact moment Sam came crashing through the double doors into the room.

"I know where the locket is!" he shouted as he ran to the mantelpiece. He picked up the wooden clock and flipped it upside down, pushing a fingernail into a groove on the underside until a small piece of wood popped out and revealed a hidden compartment. Sam rattled the clock to make the necklace fall out, then tossed the timepiece across the room where it smashed in pieces on the floor. The destruction of the clock must have angered the spirit, for as soon as it fell, a semi-transparent form of a woman in century-old attired emerged from the opposite wall. Dean shouted to warn his brother, but Sam was already taking action. He threw the necklace to the ground with one hand while aiming his pistol with the other and shot the locket in one smooth motion.

The instant the necklace - and much of the floorboard around it - was blasted, the specter dematerialized. Castiel heard shouts from outside and looked to the window to see what new danger had emerged. Instead of another ghost, however, he saw two young men with a video camera jumping up and down and smacking their hands together in the air. Dean and Sam turned to look as well.

"Are they possessed?" he asked the brothers.

" _Fucking video fucks!"_ Dean roared as he and Sam both leaped to the window. Something about being around those kids really brought out the profanity in Dean. Sam got to the window first and threw up the lower pane.

"What the hell are you doing?" the younger Winchester demanded.

One of the videographers shrieked and they abruptly froze amidst their celebration. The boys looked at one another for a second then turned and fled as fast as they could run (which was not actually very fast), laughing and calling out to each other.

 _"I think we got the whole thing!'"_ Castiel heard the one holding the camera yell in the distance, beyond human hearing.

 _"Did you see that? I swear they were about to kiss or something!'"_ the other yelled back.

 _"Best 'Ghostfacers' ever!"_ the first squealed with glee.

Castiel tried to ignore the panicky feeling rising in his chest as he remembered what had just happened. He looked back to the brothers who were arguing over whether they should chase down the boys. Dean seemed to be advocating for finding them and kicking their goddamn idiot asses before they could do something with the recording, while Sam was taking a more calm tone and trying to assure Dean that nobody watched the stupid show anyway and the important thing was that the ghost was gone and no one got hurt. Dean was still fuming, but seemed to acquiesce to his brother. Sam sighed and turned away from the window. He must have just noticed Castiel's presence then, because as his eyes fell on him, he let out a loud laugh.

"The hell happened to you?" he asked Castiel between guffaws.

"I speculate that the chimney had not been attended to in many decades," Castiel gestured with the poker toward the fireplace.

Dean's face brightened as he seemed to take in Castiel's full absurd appearance for the first time.

"Chim chim che-ree! Chim chim che-ree! Chim chim che-rooooo," Dean sang as he high stepped across the room, legs bowed out and landing awkwardly on his heels. Castiel did not understand the reference, but whatever this clumsy song and dance was, it made Sam laugh even harder.

Dean stopped over Castiel and reached down a hand to help him up.

"Come on, Bert," Dean said.

"My name is not -"

"I know, I know. Come on _Castiel_ ," Dean put exaggerated emphasis on his name. "Looks like you get to have another one of your euphoric showers."


	5. Mockingbird

_Mockingbirds sing / Sing me what the Lord was singing  
On the day he made the water / The color of my baby's eyes_

  
Dean leaned back against Baby, cold beer in one hand as he absently rubbed dirt off her passenger side mirror with the other. He looked up at the night sky and half listened to Sam ramble on about how he’d figured out the locket’s location.

"...so after you booted me from the clock room, I went back upstairs and looked around some more. No locket, but I went through her books and found out that one of them was her diary."

Sam paused and seemed to be waiting for some kind of acclamation, so Dean half smiled and raised his beer toward him to indicate approval.

"Turns out that before Jerome went off to war," Sam continued, "he was a clockmaker and had actually custom made the locket to match the clock her father had ordered for the downstairs. The outside of the locket looked like the clock in miniature, and the inside had a small lock of Claire's hair in it. That explains how her ghost had managed to stick around all these all these years."

"Uh huh."

"Apparently old Jerome thought it was a neat design to carve out a secret compartment within the larger clock to hold the locket, which itself had an even smaller secret compartment within _it_."

"Too bad he didn't guess Claire's secret," Dean commented. Oh God, secrets. Dean pushed away the words that were still echoing in his mind after those tense few minutes with Cas in the clock room.

By now Sam had moved on to discussing possibilities for their next hunt. Something about potential demonic activity in a small mountain town not so far from where they were now in Podunk, Virginia. Dean interjected "yeahs" and "uh huhs" when he felt the conversation warranted it, but his mind was only half there. He leaned against Baby and looked up at the stars.

The sound of a door opening and swinging shut pulled Dean back to Earth. He brought his head down and saw Cas walking toward them from across the motel parking lot. It appeared that he'd enjoyed his shower - again. His dark hair was still damp and sticking straight up as though he'd just rubbed his whole head with a towel. He had on another of Dean's shirts with the same jeans and jacket. He pulled the light grey jacket close about him, as if he were cold. Dean frowned at the thought of the angel feeling cold. That just wasn't right.

"...and see if he has any more info on it..." Sam paused in his monologue. "Dean?"

"Mmm?"

Sam followed Dean's line of sight and made bitch face #361. "Are you even listening to me or are you just gaping at Cas like he's 'all that' and just got made over by Freddie Prinze Junior?"

"What? No! I'm listening," Dean turned back to Sam as Cas joined them by the Impala.

"Right," Sam looked between them, then continued, "so like I was saying, I'm going to give Garth a call to find out if he has the scoop on this demon thing going on up the road."

"Ah, yeah, demon thing," Dean chimed in, still sneaking furtive glances at Cas, who was looking perfectly relaxed while listening to Sam with rapt attention.

"In fact," Sam looked between them again, "I think I'll go call him right now," and started walking back to the motel.

Dean noticed his brother leaving only after he had already gone three or four steps, and called after him, "Yeah, good plan, Sammy!" He wasn't really sure what the plan was, but if Sam had come up with it, it was probably a good one. He looked back over to Cas who had taken up Sam's spot next to him leaning against the car.

"So, uh, enjoy your shower?" Dean asked lamely. He took a big chug from his beer and looked down to where he was kicking around a piece of loose gravel.

"Yes, the sensation is so agreeable that I almost think it would be worth getting dirty just to feel it again," Cas replied with the side of his mouth twitching in an expression Dean recognized as his version of a smile. Or smirk. Was Cas making a joke? Sometimes Dean thought the angel was not half as naïve as he led on.

"Hey, you want a beer?" Dean offered. He pulled one out of the cooler, popped off the cap, and handed it over to Cas. Their fingers brushed in the transfer, causing Dean to jump a little. Must still be jittery from their ghost encounter. Cas took the bottle and Dean clenched his jaw and looked back down.

"Dean," Cas said in that deep voice that caused something to tighten low in Dean's abdomen.

He looked up and met the angel's characteristically intense stare, waiting for him to go on.

"Earlier, when we were under the influence of the spirit of Claire Racine - " Cas paused.

Dean felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He still wasn't sure what he thought about all that. He was even less sure that he even _wanted_ to think about it. Was Cas about to confess that he was, you know, _interested_ in him? Dean wouldn't know what to do with that kind of a bombshell. Cas was pretty much his best friend - hell, the only person in the world besides his brother he felt at all close to anymore - and he would feel terrible disappointing him. Because he would have to disappoint him, of course. It's not like he could return his affections, if that's what they were.

Cas must have seen something of Dean's thoughts in his face because he dropped his eyes and said softly, "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. If you prefer, we can choose to ignore anything that may have been said or, uh, implied today."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Yeah, that's probably for the best."

Well that was a relief. At least Cas was going to be cool about things. Then why did he suddenly feel so miserable? Wasn't Cas supposed to be the disappointed one?

Dean kicked the piece of gravel clear across the parking lot.

Maybe there was more to that truth spell than he had been ready to acknowledge. Sure, it was one thing to admit that Cas was pretty hot (for a guy and all), but Dean had been on the verge of confessing surprising and far deeper things before Sam had burst in and put a stop to the scene. Dean thought back to Cas's sudden arrival the night before, and how tender he had felt toward the wounded angel. It scared him just how precious Cas had become to him. He felt protective of him, the way he had always felt the need to take care of Sammy. But it was more than that. Cas wasn't just another person he was obliged to look after. He was someone he really respected, turned to in times of need. But not in a fatherly way, either. Fatherly didn't really mean much in his case anyways. No, with Cas it was different. He was an equal, a true friend. He had always believed in Dean. Being with Cas wasn't an escape the way it had been with Lisa, or even Cassie. With him, Dean could always be himself, didn’t have to hold anything back or give up hunting. Just being around the angel made him feel happier, hopeful even in the darkest of times. His loyalty, his bravery, his totally off sense of humor, all his adorable little quirks.

He looked over at Cas. Of course he was just standing there picking at the label on his beer, expression unreadable.

If Dean was being honest with himself, the problem with the way he felt about Cas wasn't that he was a dude, or even that he was an angel - not really. It was just _too much_. There was no one else left to anchor him. When he thought of all the people he'd lost in one way or another - Bennie, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Lisa, Ben, Cassie, Dad, Mom, even Sammy at times - he just couldn't bring himself to take any kind of leap that would risk the one reliable relationship he had left. Especially after all he and Cas had been through together. So many ups and downs, betrayals and reconciliations - it was all too fragile. The best thing was to just put it out of his head. Cas would get better and go back to doing whatever angel stuff he and his feathered friends got up to. He and Sammy would continue on the road, like always. Everything would be in its right place, and all would be well. Or at least as well as it could be for a Winchester.

Then why, dear God WHY did he feel like someone was twisting a knife in his chest? Hopes he hadn't even realized he'd harbored were crashing around him, and he just couldn't go back to the way it had been before.

He gave an angry kick to another chunk of pavement, but apparently this one wasn't as loose as the first. Dean cursed and hopped awkwardly on his left foot, shaking out the right one as if doing the hokey pokey would somehow dull the pain of his poor stubbed toes.

"Dean?" Cas inquired, bringing him back to the present. "Are you hurt? Do you want me to try to - ?" he mimed touching Dean's forehead to work his angel healing mojo.

"Oh, uh, no, it's nothing." Feeling a bit embarrassed, he kept his eyes down and tried to pry up the now partially displaced pavement with his uninjured foot.

"Dean," Cas said quite seriously, and quite close too. Dean looked up to find the angel mere inches from his person. Cas's eyes were so intense, so dark, and yet still so blue. It was mesmerizing, and it made Dean feel more than a little sad.

Cas raised a hand to Dean's shoulder with the handprint and squeezed lightly, affectionately.

"I don't want to ignore it," he said barely above whispered.

Dean shuddered and reached up to take Cas's hand in his own. Cas gazed at him even more intensely, if that were possible. It reminded Dean of a softer version of the look Cas had given him that night he'd been so angry at catching Dean trying to turn himself over to Michael. He had thought then that maybe... yes, this was real. Dean swallowed and felt his jaw muscle twitch. He saw Cas bite his lower lip then drop his eyes to Dean's lip. Well if that weren't the universal sign for "kiss me"!

Come on, Winchester, don't be such a girl! Every fear and rationalization he'd just gone over evaporated from his mind and Dean pulled their hands down to his chest, closed his eyes, and leaned in to press a soft kiss on Cas's lips.

At first Dean was afraid he'd made a mistake. Cas didn't react at all, just stood stiff as that fucking Greek statue. But then Cas grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. He exhaled shakily then started to return Dean's kiss, clumsily at first, but quickly figuring out how to match the tempo and pressure. Dean wrapped his arm around Cas's back in a gentle embrace. The feel of his own jacket on the other man was a bit surreal. Hell, the whole thing was beyond surreal. But so so good. He opened his mouth just a sliver and bit down gently on Cas's lip. Cas jerked in surprise, but was soon repeating the move back on Dean. His mouth slightly open now, Dean ventured to lick Cas's top lip, then slipped his tongue in lightly, encouraging Cas to deepen the kiss. It seemed he wouldn't have to ask twice - the angel was a quick study. Cas opened wider and pressed his lips into Dean's almost frantically, dancing their tongues together and reaching for more and more.

Dean felt intoxicated by the kiss and was already eager to take it further. He dropped Cas's hand in favor of grabbing onto his arm and turned him so that his back was up against the car. Cas gasped and Dean moved in greedily, taking advantage of the open mouth and new position.

The sound of door hinges creaking behind him felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over Dean. He let go of Cas entirely and spun around so his eyes could confirm what his brain already knew - Sam had finished his phone call and was already rejoining them. Shit shit shit. Had he seen anything? It was dark out here, but he had already learned once this week that that was nothing to rely on.

"Wha..." Cas panted - actually _panted_ \- beside him. Dean glanced over to see the angel looking totally debauched - skin flushed, pupils dilated, lips reddened and wet, expression of wonderment on his face. He felt a stab of pride that he had made him look that way, followed swiftly by a stab of panic that Sam was about to see it too.

He coughed and nodded toward his approaching brother, then handed Cas another beer, the first one having rolled off to God knew where during the commotion.

Dean settled back against Baby and tried to affect as casual a posture as he could manage with what was now a raging hard on.

"Hey Sammy, catch up with Garth?" he asked, voice a little too high pitched. Shit! He had to get it together.

"Yeah, I did. He said - hey can you pass me a beer? - he said he'd gotten a call from another hunter in the area who confirmed a bunch of demons were stirring up trouble, but the other guy had gone off to deal with some vampire nest. So the demon case is all ours if we want it."

Sam squeezed in between Dean and Cas and leaned back to take a long drag of the beer. Well this was uncomfortable. But Sam seemed completely oblivious, so he must not have seen anything. He let out a breath he had been holding in unconsciously and glanced past his brother to see how Cas was doing. Jesus, Cas! The guy looked like the cat that got the cream. He was staring blankly into the distance, mouth half open and curved up into a smile, shirt wrinkled and hair still a mess. Sam was going to be suspicious as hell.

Sure enough Sam looked over at Cas, made bitch face number #87, and turned back to Dean with, "Can't handle his liquor after all, can he?"

"Yeah, uh, I guess not!" Dean replied, feeling more confident. Pass Cas off as drunk - yeah, that certainly looked accurate. Damn, he had evoked with one kiss an effect that innumerable bottles of alcohol had not! Still got the moves.

After the trio had finished their beers - well, after Dean and Sam had finished their beers and Cas had held his until it got warm and had to be poured out - they put the cooler back in the Impala and headed back to the motel room.

"I got the guy at the front desk to bring around one of those rollaway cots," Sam mentioned. "So everybody can sleep 'in peace' tonight. Unless you don’t want that?" He winked at Dean. Damn. Maybe his brother wasn't as clueless as he had thought. Dean threw back at him his own bitch face #219 and thanked him overly politely for his courteousness towards their guest. Sam just shot back at him bitch face #197 a.k.a. I-hear-your-bullshit-and-I-ain't-buying-it with a side of so-don't-even-try.

As he closed his eyes and lay on the squeaky cot half an hour later - Cas needed to get his strength back after all, and Sam was a good foot too long for the damn thing - Dean smiled and thought back on the kiss in the parking lot. He had no idea what he was getting into. That should scare him, he thought, but right then, he couldn't be bothered. It was some seriously weird shit, making out with an angel, and who knew what would happen next. But they were Winchesters - their lives were nothing but a never ending playlist of weird shit after weird shit. He nuzzled into his pillow and smiled, just a little bit sorry that he had more room to stretch out this night.


	6. Lo-Fi Tennessee Mountain Angel

_Lo-fi Tennessee mountain angel come back to me  
You say you want to sing country, but you're in a punk rock band_

  
Waynesville, Tennessee was your typical somewhat charming but mostly just depressing Appalachian Mountain hick town. One main drag with a hardware store, grocer, handful of antique shops, and two bars populated mostly by cougars who thought Dean was the most delicious morsel they'd laid eyes on since their last divorce. The three of them were trying to chat up the locals to get a handle on the demon situation, but they hadn't made much of an inroad yet. Cas had been taking his new apprentice hunter role a little too seriously, Dean thought, and while amusing, it was hindering their progress. Dean could swear that Cas was mimicking his own mannerisms and trying to copy his interrogation style, but he was exaggerating it to caricature. It was kind of disconcerting, honestly, to see your own reflection thrown back at you as though from a Fun House mirror. But Cas had been through a lot, and he wanted so much to be helpful, so Dean just humored him and tried to ask more subtle questions when Cas wasn't breathing down his neck, which, as it turned out, was not very often at all.

This afternoon they were hanging out in Cougar Bar #2 when their forty-something, gum-smacking waitress came over to take their orders. She was very bleached blonde, very flannelled, and apparently very interested in Cas. The look she gave him was positively _hungry_ , but to Dean's relief, Cas seemed completely oblivious. Dean rescued another menu from Cas's over diligence and ordered burgers for them both. When the waitress came back over to loiter around the jukebox, picking out country songs and making googly eyes at Cas, Dean figured he might as well take the opportunity to find out what she knew.

"Kind of quiet around here, isn't it? I thought there'd be more people in town for ski season," he prompted. Not that the skiing was ever great in Tennessee, but it's not like Southerners knew any better, and they had passed by some slopes on the highway.

"Ain't bin the bes' snow year," she replied without looking at Dean then blew and popped a large bubble.

"How 'bout you, sweetie? C'mere to ski?" she addressed Cas between smacks. "I betcha look jus' _darlin'_ in a lil' pompom hat and ski suit!" To Dean's horror, she leaned over and actually pinched the angel's cheeks.

Cas pulled back and looked up at the waitress.

"I do not understand the appeal of slowly falling down a mountain only to return to the summit and repeat the process through a different corridor like a mouse in a maze." He looked genuinely perplexed, "At least the mice are rewarded with cheese at the end of their labyrinth - I see no desirable outcome for the humans, just potential frostbite and mortal injury."

Sam choked on his iced tea and Dean grinned down at the table. Oh he was definitely taking Cas skiing sometime. The waitress looked puzzled as to why her flirting was not going over in the way she'd expected.

"So nothing out of the ordinary besides the low snow totals?" Sam recovered.

"Nope," she turned to Sam, apparently giving up on Cas. "Well, 'cept for that travelin' circus settin' up way out yonder. E'rybody's damn near thrilled to get a show in our lil' town, but I can't figure for the life a'me why they'd be doin' it in the wintertime - icy roads an' all. There's a flyer up by the checkout if you fellahs wannna catch the show Wens'dy next."

She sidled off and Dean and Sam gave each other a knowing look.

"Winter circus in backwoods Appalachia," Sam noted, "now that's not suspicious."

Cas frowned. "It seems to me illogical timing for outdoor activities at this altitude," he offered.

"Yeah, thanks Sherlock Holmes," Dean rolled his eyes and gave Cas a light punch on the shoulder. Cas favored him with a look that managed to be near sickly sweet while still a little befuddled and just so very _Cas_. Dean smiled back at him affectionately.

Sam cleared his throat to interrupt the eyesex taking place across him, "Right, so - after lunch then?"

 

~*~

 

An hour later they pulled up to the end of the gravel road marked on the flyer for the circus. They were definitely in the country now - had been pretty much since getting half a mile off Main Street. There were no houses or farms with a view of the site, just mountains and trees and the road they'd driven up barely visible a few thousand feet down. A cold wind whipped through the wide clearing where the circus had set up. There were several small tents and one rather large one in the middle, but Dean didn't see anyone moving around outside.

"Too quiet," Sam observed.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. They quickly geared up and started to prowl around the perimeter of the camp. Dean made sure to keep Cas behind him at all times. No sense in letting the angel jump in and get hurt before he was back to full strength.

After they had made the full circle without encountering anyone, Sam nodded toward the middle of the camp and silently snuck up to the largest tent. Dean followed, making sure that Cas stayed close. When they reached the tent and still didn't detect any noise on the other side, Dean finger counted to three and they burst through the flap and into the main circus ring.

Still nothing. This was getting creepy as hell. They lowered their weapons and discussed the situation. Sam suggested that maybe the circus was a ruse and the demons were carrying out their activities at some other location. Dean shrugged. You could never guess what these freaks would get up to.

Just as they were turning to leave, the sound of rustling straw caused Dean to spin on his heels. Suddenly half a dozen black-eyed demons leaped out from behind the stacks of hay bales that had been set up for seating. With barely a second to react, Dean found himself punching and stabbing his way through the onslaught while trying to keep Cas in his sight behind him.

Fortunately he and Sam were able to make short work of the crew. Dean looked around in satisfaction at the bodies laid out around them on the dirt floor.

"Well, that should do it!" he announced.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, "Based on what I got from Garth, though, I expected a larger group. I think I'll make one last pass behind the tent on our way out."

Dean shrugged and headed back to the car, Cas in tow. As he opened the driver's side door, a slender metallic looking object caught his eye as it glimmered in the sunlight under a pile of hay some ten paces away. Please don't let this be another fable gone wild situation with a _literal_ needle in a haystack. He dropped the door handle and walk over to get a closer look. What the hell... was that what he thought it was?

"Dean!" Cas called out behind him. He spun around, all his senses suddenly on high alert, ready to take on whatever threat there might be to his angel. But Cas had already zapped away. Dean spun back around and was struck with horror when he saw that another demon had come out of nowhere and had scooped up the shiny object that looked suspiciously like an angel blade - though how the hell some ragtag demons could have gotten their hands on one he had no idea. Of course Cas had beamed himself like a madman right to the spot. Desperate to get between Dean and the demon? Or just desperate? Dean started to run toward the angel but knew with a sinking feeling that he would be too late.

Just as Dean saw the demon turn and raise his arm to stab Cas in the chest, a massive moose of a man swooped in and wrested the demon to the ground. Sam! Endlessly annoying, wonderful, _life saving_ baby brother, Sam! By the time he reached them, his brother had already ganked the black-eyed freak with the demon knife and was standing up to check that Cas was okay.

Dean barreled right past him and shoved Cas _hard_.

"What the FUCK were you thinking??" he shouted.

Cas looked up at him, startled, then looked down at the wasted vessel on the grass. "The demon - " he started.

"I see the goddamn demon! I'm talking about you, you son of a bitch!" Dean was so angry, and he wasn't even sure why. He just knew that what he had seen was more than reckless - it was insane! Was Cas _trying_ to get himself killed??

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Sam slinking off cautiously. Typical. Fine! He could handle this on his own! He turned back to Cas and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. As he shook him, he walked them forward a few steps until Cas slammed against a big oak tree, head whipping back with a thud. The Impala - and Sam - were hidden from view now, a fact for which Dean felt grateful as he could feel himself rapidly losing control.

"You can't just run headlong into danger like that!" He pressed his fingers into Cas's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises and searched the angel's face for some explanation. For his part Cas had the decency to look somewhat abashed, but mixed in there was some other masked emotion Dean couldn't make out.

"Well? Care to elaborate??" He shook him again.

Cas looked up at Dean slowly. The look in his eyes was absolutely heartbreaking.

"I just wanted to stop it..." His brows creased and he looked away.

"Stop what? The demon?"

"Yes, obviously. No, all of it. No, I don't know... You were in danger, Dean - "

"Hardly!" Dean interrupted. "He was thirty feet away and I just handled all his pals!"

"Yes, okay. I only wanted to help. And compared to you, if I... it would have been no great loss," Cas finished quietly.

"'No great' -" Dean spluttered, at a loss for how to respond. "Are you crazy??"

"You know I have caused far more harm than good in my life. And I am not of much use in this form anyways."

"Cas - ", Dean sighed with exasperation. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and think of the right way to put this. "You've been far more good than harm in _my_ life - doesn't that count for anything?"

Cas looked up at him through dark lashes. Dean could almost swear there were tears in his eyes, but of course angels didn't cry, so it must just be the light.

"I've lost you so many times already," Dean continued shakily. "If I lost you again, I'd probably have to bring you back just so I could kill you myself!" He tried for a laugh but it came out broken. He clenched his jaw and looked down at Cas who was shivering slightly and would not meet his eye. Dean felt hollow inside as he realized just how close he had been, and maybe still was, to losing him.

"Don't leave me again, Cas," Dean whispered. He hated these chick flick moments but he had to say something. This was no time for macho posturing.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said to the ground. "I keep trying to make things right but I only end up making them worse. I- I never wanted to hurt you. Never you, Dean. You are my whole world. I would do anything, _anything_ for you."

Finally Cas looked into his eyes. Dean didn't think he could say anything if he tried. It was all just too much. He pulled Cas into a hug and felt the angel grip his jacket, gingerly at first, then tighter and more desperately. Cas buried his face in Dean's neck.

Dean kept Cas pinned against the tree with his hands but leaned back just enough to get him to raise his head. Without pausing to think about it, Dean pressed a pained kiss to Cas's lips. He gasped and Dean took the opportunity to drive his tongue into the angel's mouth, at the same time reaching around his back to pull his torso flush against Dean's own.

When Dean eventually had to draw back for air, Cas grabbed him by the hair and impatiently dragged him back down, smashing their teeth together in his haste. Cas matched Dean's moves with a frantic intensity, running hands up and down his body, clutching and releasing like he couldn't wait a second longer for anything.

Dean took his hand off Cas's back and shoved his pelvis till he had the angel pushed back against the tree again. He used the weight of his legs leaning into Cas to keep him in place, freeing up his arms to yank off the other man's jacket. Dean tossed the coat carelessly over his shoulder as he moved in for another kiss. With hands still at liberty, he got down to the serious business of exploring the inviting expanses of Cas's skin. He ran cool fingers up and down Cas's warm, toned chest and stomach, eliciting a gasp but no indication that he wanted Dean to stop. He scraped his nails down Cas's back, receiving in return a hiss followed by a sharp bite to the lower lip. Best of all though was the feeling of running his thumb across Cas's exposed pelvic bone. The shape of it had been haunting his thoughts since he caught sight of it that evening with the belt incident. As Dean gripped Cas harder, the angel moaned softly into his mouth and bucked toward him, turning him on even more.

Dean grinded up against Cas, forcing a knee between his legs. Cas immediately responded, back arching off the tree trunk. Dean had never seen or even imagined Cas so unrestrained. The angel kissed Dean's neck one moment then nipped on his earlobe or sucked a hickey on his collarbone the next. Dean felt cold fingers pulling up his shirt and almost laughed as he remembered what Cas had said about "illogical timing for outdoor activities at this altitude." Yeah, it was freaking freezing up here, but he still felt like he was burning. Cas's fingers brushed across a nipple and Dean closed his eyes, actually feeling grateful that it was so chilly or else he'd probably finish faster than he had since he was a teenager. Cas slipped one hand down to cup Dean outside his jeans, clasping Dean's shoulder over his own handprint with the other, and pulled them together for another reckless kiss.

"Ahhh, God, Cas - " Dean pushed into his hand and swallowed hard. He agilely unbuckled Cas's - well, technically, his - belt and jeans. He hoped his hands were a little warmer by now because he was losing all patience. Still furiously kissing and sucking on Cas's mouth on down to his neck, Dean grabbed him at the waist with one hand and slipped the other into Cas's - his - boxers to grab that tight ass he'd eyed so many times.

Cas stifled a moan by biting on Dean's shoulder. Dean bit down on his own lip till he drew blood, trying not to lose it right then and there. He could feel how hard Cas was pressed up against his leg, jerking forward as much as he could in the position Dean had him pinned in. Dean released his hold on the angel temporarily and unbuckled and unzipped Cas's fly. With some regret, he abandoned groping that fine backside for the moment and traced his fingers along Cas's pelvic bone to the front so he could grasp Cas where he knew he wanted it most.

"FUCK! DEAN!" Cas yelled out. Dean burst into laughter at Cas's sudden and adorable profanity. He planted a dozen little kisses all over Cas's mouth as he started up a regular rhythm in his strokes. Dean felt Cas's hand squeeze tighter on him in response, and he leaned into the touch, aching for more contact.

It didn't take long before Dean felt Cas's body start to jolt erratically and his breathing become rough.

"I mmm, I think... am going to - ahhh _Dean..._ Cas clearly couldn't communicate the rest of that thought, but Dean understood.

"Yeah, Cas, I know," he reassured him. "Just relax."

Dean leaned in to whisper in Cas's ear, " _You are so fucking hot right now."_

Cas came with a quiet shout and collapsed forward onto Dean. His eyes were wide and he struggled to catch his breath as he looked up at Dean in blissed out amazement. Dean thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

In spite of his lack of experience, Cas had apparently already figured out the whole reciprocity thing, because before Dean could process what was happening, he felt a sweet relief from pressure as his pants were zipped open. After all that buildup, it only took a few strong strokes from Cas then Dean was coming too with a blinding orgasm that shook his whole body.

He panted into Cas's neck for a minute before stepping back to take in some much needed deeper breaths. Dean grinned at him, but Cas's eyes were flitting around in every other direction. Was he nervous now?

"Hey, Cas," Dean took his chin and turned his face to look him in the eyes. "That. Was. _Awesome_."

A slow smile spread across Cas's face and he looked down as he blushed a little. Then he looked back up through his eyelashes and said, to Dean's surprise, "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

Dean smiled too and turned to go wipe his hand off on the fallen demon's shirt back where they'd begun. It was kind of a crude thing to do, but hey, the guy was already dead. A dead fucking asshole who had tried to kill his angel, actually. Dean frowned and stepped on the corpse for leverage as he ripped a bit of the black-eyed freak's shirt off, then tossed the fragment to Cas. Dean zipped up his pants and adjusted himself as he went over to retrieve the jacket he'd thrown away.

As he walked back to the tree, Dean suddenly remembered the existence of his brother. Shit. Dean didn't think they had been very loud, but he still hoped that Sammy had shut himself up the Impala to listen to some crappy music on his iPod.

He handed over Cas's jacket. Weird that he was already thinking of it as Cas's and no longer his own.

"Hey, uh, would you mind not saying anything to Sam about this?" Dean asked. Cas tilted his head, not following.

"It's not a big thing - I just don't want to have to deal with him just yet if I can help it, okay?" It wasn't that Dean thought Sam would be uncomfortable with the gay/bi/whatever thing - besides, Sam already seemed pretty suspicous and had so far confined himself to winks and oblique teasing - he just didn't want to make a big fuss over everything. Especially when he didn't even know what 'everything' was.

"Okay," Cas replied.

"Thanks." Dean went over and wrapped an arm around Cas's shoulders in a side hug then let go and started up a half jog to get back to the car.

Sure enough, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat with his stupid earbuds in, nodding along to something undoubtedly girly and inferior to anything in Baby's cassette collection.

He opened the driver's side door and slid in. Cas was still a few paces back.

"Oh hey, get everything worked out, then?" Sam asked, pulling a bud out of one ear and making one of his 'concerned' faces.

Dean had almost forgotten the argument that had started the whole thing. He looked over his shoulder to see Cas climbing into the back seat. Well, he'd made his point.

"Yep, all good." Dean smiled and cranked up Baby to drive them back to town.


	7. Tennessee Sucks

_Cause Tennessee sucks in the summer / What do you got that can put us under_

  
Castiel was wholly consumed by his thoughts on the drive back to town until his reverie was abruptly put to an end by the very subject of his musings. The Winchesters had already gotten out of the now parked car, but Dean stuck his head back in to find out why Castiel had not stirred yet.

"Come on, Bert! Job well done - chim-chim-cheroo over here!"

"I still don't know what that means, and my name - "

"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean muttered and shut his door.

Castiel tried to clear his mind. He heard Sam's muffled voice outside inquire something about "which job was that" followed by an exchange of "bitches" and "jerks" then receding footsteps.

Castiel looked out the window and saw the boys walk into what he recognized as one of Waynesville's two drinking institutions. Of course - Dean and Sam would want to celebrate completing the hunt with alcohol and women in a den of iniquity as was their tradition.

Since there was no one out on the street to witness it, Castiel transported himself to the bar's door and walked in from there. He could feel his angelic powers coming back strongly now. After what had just transpired with Dean, he felt as though a tension had been relieved, like something had snapped into place within him. Maybe that was all it took to speed his recovery.

Castiel located Dean and Sam sitting at the bar, talking and laughing and already putting in a good effort to empty the pints of beer they had acquired.

"Hey, I ordered you another burger," Dean told Castiel cheerfully as he reached them.

"I'm not hungry," Castiel replied.

"Oh..." Dean frowned. "Well, have a beer anyways." Castiel took the glass of amber liquid that Dean held out to him, but did not drink any.

"So Cas, what do you know about demons with angel blades?" Sam asked him. Yes, that had been bothering him as well. They must have been working with either a rogue angel or someone powerful enough to have taken the blade from one of his brothers. He explained as much to the Winchesters, but it seemed to just make them more anxious.

"Well what about whatever happened to you before you came here?" Dean asked. "Think it could have anything to do with it?"

"I consider it unlikely, but anything is possible," he replied.

"I gotta agree with Dean on this," Sam interjected, "The whole thing just felt off. Like it was a trap, even."

Castiel had nothing to say to that. In fact, he had suspected the same but had not wanted to accept the unsettling possibility as it would mean that his presence was becoming a danger to the Winchesters. Maybe it was time for him to move on anyways.

He looked at Dean and was met with a worried gaze. He dropped his eyes and took a drink from the beer he had been handed.

He knew that staying with them would be indulgent. He was never meant to have this life. Regardless of what Dean had said at the circus or at any time before, he knew he was bad luck, cursed, not worth bringing along. He should be out in the world atoning for his innumerable sins, not frolicking with the man he so desired. He had been made for a different purpose - one he had failed to live up to time and time again. He was an angel, after all, not a man. Sleeping, eating, sex - these things did not make him human. He could never be the kind of person Dean was or needed. He could not match Dean's intense emotions or irrational bravery and generosity. He was not Lisa - there would be no house and yard with leaves to rake in their future. There would be no Ben. Castiel knew that Dean had really loved Ben, the way only humans could become attached to young of their species.

No, Castiel was an angel, restored to power now. His path went another way. So as much as he did not wish to part from Dean and Sam, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Just, not yet.

"Uhh don't look now, but your Antebellum admirer is coming this way," Sam warned Castiel with a laugh, holding up a hand to shade his mouth as if he were conveying some secret.

Castiel ignored Sam's admonition and looked anyways. He saw the waitress from lunch chewing bubblegum and looking at them from the other side of a dance floor. When she caught his eye, she grinned and waved enthusiastically.

"Shit, she must have the night off from the other bar." Dean groaned and hunched over his beer.

The waitress wove her way through several rows of line dancers to reach them, bringing two other similarly attired middle-aged women in tow.

"Well hay there, shugah plum!" She greeted Castiel with enough volume to carry over the noise of the bar. "Whatcha been up to - rollin' 'round in the fields with the hawgs?" She picked a piece of bark off his sleeve then put her hand back down on his arm and squeezed.

"There were no hogs," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh my gawd, he's jus' like you said, Mary Louise! So _serious_!" one of the other women exclaimed gleefully.

"I could jus' eat him up, I could," the third one added.

All three women crowded around him, touching him on his bicep, chest, knee. He felt a hand run up his thigh.

"Alright, that's enough, ladies," Dean interrupted loudly and threw an arm around Castiel's shoulder. "This one's taken."

"Awww," the women cooed in unison, making identical pouting faces.

"Sorry." Dean made an exaggerated hug.

The women continued to voice nonsensical syllables at one another in sing-song tones as they wiggled away, turning back every so often to make frowny faces at them.

"Ah, Dean?" Sam started up.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"We're, uh, still in _Tennessee..._ "

"Right." Dean dropped his arm from Castiel's shoulder and looked around. The scene had evidently drawn the attention of several of the bar's other patrons. One particularly burly man was eyeing them from the opposite end of the bar. Castiel could not read human expressions well enough to tell if he was projecting a posture of threat or attraction. Perhaps the Winchesters knew better, or at least did not want to take the risk, because they were soon placing bills on the counter and making their way to the exit. Dean grabbed Castiel by the sleeve to tug him along.

Once out on the sidewalk, Sam and Dean erupted into loud, nervous sounding laughter.

"Whew, nothing like a bunch of hillbillies in a bar to make a sixpack in a motel look appealing, huh?" Dean shook his head, guffawing.

"Did you see Mary Louise's redhead friend? Were those even real teeth?" Sam leaned over with his hands on his knees and wheezed.

"I'm not, you know," Castiel stated.

"What...?" Sam looked up at him through the long hair hanging over his face.

"Taken. I'm not taken," Castiel clarified.

"It's just an expression," Dean started to explain, "It means - "

"I know what it means."

"Oh..." Dean's smile disappeared. Sam stopped laughing and looked at the two of them apprehensively.

"I'm just gonna, um, take a piss..." the younger Winchester stuttered as he gestured to the alley next to the bar and backed up around the corner.

"Cas, what are you getting at?" Dean asked in a low voice and took several steps toward him.

"Just what I said." Castiel didn't understand why there should be any confusion. "I have no human attachments."

"' _No human''..._ what the hell, Cas? Are you saying that all this, whatever this is..." Dean was starting to look angry now. "You're saying that back there was nothing?"

"It was not unpleasant,"he offered.

"'Not unpleasant'. Wow. Awesome."

"I don't understand what you're upset about."

"Upset?" Dean yelled. "I'm not upset! Why the hell would I be upset?"

"You seem... agitated," Castiel explained. He sensed that the conversation was taking a bad turn but did not know how to recover.

"Dean, I'm not like you." He tried to think of a way to convey his intention to leave without hurting Dean's feelings.

"Being with you is pleasurable - like taking a shower or eating a hamburger."

"Oh is that how it is?" Dean did not seem appeased.

"Yes," Castiel continued. "But angels are not like humans. We cannot feel or... love the way humans do. We cannot live the way humans do. We have a higher purpose."

"Really. And what fucking higher purpose is that, huh, Cas??" Dean was definitely angry.

"You know I have been carrying out good deeds, repenting for my crimes - "

"Oh well aren't you heaven's bestest little angel then!" Dean fumed. "What about the crime you're committing right now? What about _me_?"

Dean was breathing heavily, seemingly as exerted as he had been by the circus earlier. Something about it made Castiel's chest feel tight. But he had to go on.

"I have no intention of hurting you, Dean," he said quietly.

"Fuck you and your intentions! Fuck you so much, Cas!" Dean shouted. "You are the most cowardly, _selfish_ person I know! Get the hell out! Go kiss babies and cure cancer if that's what you want so much!"

Castiel couldn't look at him anymore. Dean had made himself very clear. He felt pained to leave in this way, but it had to be for the best. It just had to be.

He stared at the ground for a moment then raised his head and took in one last long gaze at Dean.

Dean must have realized what he was doing. Castiel heard Dean yell out "Cas, wait!" just as he dematerialized in front of him.

 

~*~

 

Castiel first beamed himself back to the motel room to retrieve his trench coat. He liked the more comfortable clothes he had been borrowing from Dean, but he had to admit that he harbored an irrational sentimental attachment to his old coat. He left Dean's jacket on the motel bed.

He contemplated zapping across the globe to get started on his mission right away, but something held him back. He hadn't wanted to leave so soon. The scene with Dean in the bar had just shown him that it was time to move on before things got more... involved. Still, he felt an urge to check on the brothers just one more time before he left.

With a twinge of guilt, Castiel made himself invisible before transporting back the bar. He had rarely pulled that trick since back when he was working with Crowley and would spy on the Winchesters to make sure they were not on to him. He knew then that it was dishonest, and he knew it now as well, but this was a different situation. He was responsible for Dean, so of course he was obligated to watch over him. But actually interacting at that moment would be counterproductive. So surely this, um, covert surveillance was warranted.

Back on the street where he had left him, Castiel saw Dean leaning against the Impala, head in his hands. Sam was walking toward him wearing one of his most sympathetic expressions.

 _"Dean, I'm so sorry,"_ Castiel heard Sam say.

Dean looked up to the sky and shook his head, an agonized frown twisting his face.

 _"He'll be back. He always comes back."_ Sam was trying to be reassuring.

"I'm so fucking tired of him coming back! Why can't he just fuck off and leave me in peace! I wish he'd stayed in Purgatory! No, better - I wish he'd never come back from the Leviathans! Or the Apocalypse!" Dean shouted.

 _"You don't mean that,"_ Sam said softly, eyeing his brother with worry.

 _"I don't know what I mean,"_ Dean grimaced and looked down.

 _"Dean,"_ Sam started. " _Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"What do you think, Sammy?? No, of course I don't want to talk about it!"_

_"Okay, okay."_ Sam held up his hands in surrender.

 _"I just thought that... Why does everything in our lives have to turn to shit, Sammy?"_ Dean pleaded miserably.

 _"I don't know, Dean."_ Sam looked at him empathetically and reached out to offer a hug.

Dean pushed Sam away.

 _"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just.. give me a minute,"_ he choked out.

 _"Dean. Come on."_ Sam was not giving up. Dean looked up at him, swallowing hard and losing the battle to fight back tears. He dropped his head again and sighed, leaving Sam an opening to catch him up in a tight embrace. Dean turned into him and buried his face.

 _"Damnit!"_ Dean blurted out suddenly, and tried to pull away. Sam did not budge, of course, but just held Dean closer.

Castiel was glad that the brothers had one another. Dean and Sam loved and cared for each other the way that humans needed to be loved and cared for. Sam would look after Dean. Everything would be fine. And if Castiel felt like someone was carving out a cavern in his chest with a cold blunt instrument, well that just served to underscore how far he had already allowed himself to fall and assimilate to humanity. He had eavesdropped past what anyone would deem appropriate now. It was time to move on. Surely the cure for this hollow feeling was to fill his life with purpose again. He took one last mournful look at the Winchesters and left to begin his heavy task.


	8. Sweet Illusions

_I can feel the sweet illusion coming / Sweet confusion, honey  
Sweet illusion coming down / And I ain't got nothing but love for you now_

 

Parks always helped Castiel to feel more at peace. Since he no longer spent much time in heaven, he missed visiting the kite-flying autistic man in his own little grassy haven. So Castiel found a quiet corner of a palace garden in Dusseldorf to sit and meditate on all that had happened recently.

The scene in front of him was cheerful - or at least it should have been. Since the grounds were open to the public, many people visited them of an afternoon to enjoy a walk around the hedged borders of the long green lawn or to watch the ducks and geese swimming in the canal-like pond at its center. Children ran and played, dogs caught Frisbees, spandex-clad joggers weaved through the crowds, tourists snapped photographs, seniors trod along steadily in their practical shoes, and lovers held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes like they were all alone in the world, much less the park.

A youth with a skateboard practiced tricks on the stairs behind him. Though the daredevil was wearing headphones, the music blared loudly enough for Castiel to make out every word without trying to listen.

_“I’M ON THE HIIIGHWAY TO HELL…”_

Castiel decided he did not much like that song and got up from the bench he had been sitting on. He had not gone more than a few steps when he had to stop again as two young boys ran across the path in front of him. His eyes followed the pair and he realized that they were chasing a large dog running across the grass with his leash trailing behind him. The dog stopped every few paces to look back at the boys with a stupidly happy expression before running off again when they got close. The dog seemed to think it was a great game, but the boys were not nearly as entertained. Castiel stepped back into the shadows then zapped himself into the path of the dog. He grabbed the surprised animal by the collar and gave him a disapproving look. Rosco feigned innocence, but Castiel informed him that he knew exactly what he was doing and that he expected better behavior from him.

When the boys caught up, Rosco apologized and went about making amends by jumping on and licking them affectionately. The older brother, about ten years of age by Castiel’s estimation, looked from him to where he had been standing moments earlier and then back again.

“How did you - ”

“Oh thank you so so SO much, mister! You’re our hero!” the younger brother, about six years old, interrupted.

The older one smiled down at him, his question forgotten, and mussed the kid’s shaggy hair.

“Next time, hold the leash tighter!” he scolded.

“I know, I know!” the little one replied with feeling. He took the leash and wrapped it around his wrist a few times, then took off across the park again with Rosco running gleefully beside him.

“Thanks again!” the older one yelled back to Castiel as he ran after them.

Castiel smiled back, but he felt a little sad. He wished he could go with the happy brothers and watch over them. But they did not seem to need his help, so he moved on.

Lately it felt like the universe was conspiring against him. Everything reminded him of Dean. Earlier in the day a lady had hit him with her purse for running his hand along her car - a boxy black sedan of a vintage some fifty years old. She was convinced that he had been about to steal her “schätzchen.” People with cars like that were always overprotective.

After that he had come upon a quaint art house cinema tucked away in an old section of the town. Advertisements for its Friday night classic movie series plastered the building’s brick exterior. Castiel recognized the orange-vested time traveler and his white haired mentor on a poster for _Zurück in die Zukunft_ from the night he had burst in on Dean in the motel room in Virginia. He stood there and looked at the poster for so long that passersby mistook him for a panhandler and starting tossing coins at him.

All in all, he had not been having a very good time of it. Castiel hoped that he could still redeem the day and find someone in need of his aid.

Walking slowly down the path toward him now was a man of advanced years with a cane in one hand and a young woman supporting with him with her arm looped through his on the other side. The girl looked to be about 17 or 18 years old and was strikingly beautiful, with unusual glossy black hair and freckles on her nose and cheekbones. The old man – her grandfather? – smiled at her lovingly. Castiel saw her lean in and whisper something in the man’s ear that caused him to erupt into hearty laughter. It warmed Castiel’s heart to see their joy. All was not as well as it seemed on the surface, however. He detected a small but malignant tumor in the right lung of the grandfather. Finally – a way for him to be useful.

Before Castiel could catch up with the pair, however, another older gentleman reached them. The young woman gingerly released her grandfather’s arm so the two men could embrace warmly and then, to Castiel’s surprise, share a passionate kiss.

“ _Graaamps_ you’re embarrassing me!” the girl complained.

“Now now dear, it’s a beautiful day to be alive and I am not going to waste it worrying over your Puritanical aversion to public displays of affection,” her first grandfather chided lightly.

“I think she’s just jealous,” the second grandfather suggested. He pulled her into a hug and planted a big sloppy kiss on her forehead.

“ _Stop iiiiiit!!_ ” she squealed, but she was grinning and obviously enjoying it.

Castiel felt a twinge in his chest as he took in the scene. It was such a beautiful, happy family. He felt even more determined to make sure it stayed that way.

As he walked toward them, he caused a leaf to fall and land on the first man’s forehead. Castiel reached up and removed the leaf, brushing his fingers along the man’s temple as he did so. The old fellow shivered slightly as Castiel’s healing powers coursed through him.

“Why, thank you, sir,” he said to Castiel, no doubt referring to the leaf.

“You are most welcome,” Castiel replied. He tried to smile back but he was afraid it must have come out more sad than friendly because he saw flashes of compassion on the faces of the trio looking back at him.

“Would you, eh, like to join us for a walk, my good fellow?” the second man offered. They must think him terribly lonely.

“No, no. Thank you,” Castiel said. “I hope you have a wonderful afternoon with your family.” He walked off slowly. He did not understand why after finally doing something good he felt even _worse_. The park was not giving him any peace this day. As he made his way to an exit, he spared one glance back and saw the girl watching him with a curious expression. Castiel sighed. They did not know how lucky they truly were. 

 

~*~

 

Castiel sat glumly in a café, poking his fork at a gooey pastry on the small plate in front of him. Earlier he had experienced a inexplicable craving for a slice of pie – blueberry, or maybe pecan - but the closest thing the Germans could offer him was some kind of fruit filled strudel. He was not hungry, but there was nowhere else he had to be, so he just sat there staring at the table, thinking.

Suddenly he was jolted out of his trance by someone flopping gracelessly into the chair opposite him. He looked up to see the girl from the park earlier. She noisily pulled up her chair and held out a hand to him across the table.

“Carlene,” she offered.

Castiel stared at her hand for a moment then reluctantly shook it.

“Castiel.”

“That’s a funny name,” she said, making an amused face. “What is it, like, Czech or something?”

“Enochian.”

“Is that in Africa?”

Castiel did not reply. He frowned and looked back at his strudel.

“Are you going to eat that?” she asked.

“Um, I suppose not,” he replied.

“Thanks!” She pulled the plate over to her side and grabbed the fork out of his hand.

“Mmmfftt! This is _so_ good!” she exclaimed after cutting off a large piece and shoving it in her mouth. “You sure you don’t want some?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied. He narrowed his eyes at the spectacle of her messy attempt to consume the pastry. With every bite, more flakes of crispy sweetbread fell and frosting dripped all over the tablecloth. Humans – God’s finest creations. He turned to look out the window and tried to return to his thoughts. After a few minutes he heard the loud clang of a fork dropping onto the plate followed by a contented sigh.

“You did something earlier, in the park, when you touched Grandad, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“I did not harm him,” Castiel replied cautiously.

“I didn’t say you did,” she said.

She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, openly scrutinizing him.

“You’re kind of an odd duck, you know that?” she concluded. “Clearly not from around here. So what brings you to Dusseldorf?”

“My work takes me everywhere,” he answered.

“Your work? What are you, like, a hipster tax accountant or something?” She eyed him skeptically, taking in his full, mismatched appearance.

“No. I help people,” he stated simply.

“You think accountants don’t help people?” she countered with a smirk.

Castiel stared at her harder. What a strange young woman.

"So you were helping Grandad?" she asked.

"Yes," Castiel replied. She studied his face but did not ask any more questions.

"I believe you."

Strange and unusually trusting.

“Hey, I’m gonna get an espresso!” she announced abruptly. “You want one?”

Castiel shook his head and looked back out the window. 

 

~*~

 

The sky was beginning to darken by the time Carlene finished her second espresso (and second pastry). She had continued to offer to share with Castiel, but he continued to refuse, so they just sat there mostly in silence for some time, her munching contentedly and him gazing blankly off into the distance.

“You miss someone, don’t you?” Carlene asked him out of nowhere.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Castiel replied stiffly.

“That’s how Pops would look when Grandad was recovering in Berlin after his surgery.”

She paused to lean back and upend her petite mug, licking up the last drops of espresso.

“He had to stay here, see, ‘cause Mom was pregnant with my baby brother and having complications,” she continued.

“But I remember it. It was months before Grandad was well enough to come home, and Pops really missed him.”

“I see. I am sorry for his suffering,” Castiel offered sympathetically.

“Well don’t look so sad! They’re happy now, aren’t they? I just pray that one day I’ll grow up and share that kind of love with someone too.” She sighed wistfully.

“Do not be worried – you will have many opportunities to find someone similar to yourself with whom to have a relationship,” Castiel assured her.

“What’s _that_ got to do with anything?” Carlene scrunched up her face and looked at him like he had gone crazy. “You think Grandad and Pops are so alike?”

Castiel tilted his head and looked at her, confused.

“Okay, see that couple over there?” She gestured to a table on the far side of the room where a heavyset, middle-aged woman was sitting across from a handsome, dark complexioned young man.

“That’s Hannah and Obi. Would you believe they met right here in this café? Obi had just arrived from Lagos and didn’t know enough German to find his way to a job interview. The waitresses all tried to give him directions, but they couldn’t leave their shifts, so Hannah, who had been eating lunch and listening to the whole thing, took him by the hand and led him through the twists and turns of the city to make the appointment.”

Carlene smiled warmly.

“I don’t know if he got the job that day, but he got something infinitely better.”

Castiel nodded. They made an odd looking pair, but from their smiles and gazes at one another he could tell they were very happy and very much in love.

“And that,” Carlene pointed to a waitress taking a nearby table’s order. “That’s Liesl. She lives in our tenement building with her boyfriend Franz and their girlfriend Bette. They’re very friendly. Mom likes to say that Liesl has such a big heart that she can’t limit her love to just one person. If there are any rules to love, then she hasn’t heard about them.”

Castiel examined the young woman under discussion. She had curly blonde hair in a high ponytail and prominent dimples. One would not guess from looking at her that she was such a rebel against societal norms. Love really could inspire people to do all kinds of unconventional things they would not dare to do otherwise.

“But best of all – do you see the little old man buying flowers from the cart across the street?” Castiel followed Carlene’s line of sight and saw a short, elderly man, probably in his late 80s, pick up a bouquet of edelweiss and hand a few bills over to the stand’s owner.

“That’s for his Marion,” she continued. “Sef and Marion only met a few years ago, actually. They had both been married before, but their spouses passed away decades ago. Sef has had a very hard life. When he was a teenager he spent time in the concentration camps, and it seems like death has followed him ever since. His brother was killed in the construction worker uprising in ’53, and his first wife died in childbirth. The baby didn’t make it either.”

Carlene paused and rested her chin on her hands for a moment, looking sadly at Sef across the street. Then she dropped her arms to the table again and looked into Castiel’s eyes seriously.

“You know, he sat with me here one time - just like this - and told me that he had thought he was cursed and incapable of loving anyone anymore. Then he met Marion. The way he tells it, he was walking through the gardens at Schloss Benrath when this energetic little woman came up to him and stuck a handful of delphinium blossoms in his front suit pocket. She said they matched the blue of his eyes. He said he felt like he’d met an angel.”

Castiel understood the story. He looked thoughtfully at the young woman on the other side of the table.

“You are a person of exceptional insight, Carlene.”

“Not really,” she shrugged. “I just like to watch people and learn their stories. I think _you_ must have an interesting story.”

“Nothing like the ones you just told, I’m afraid.” He frowned.

“Why not?” She leaned forward and gave him an examining look.

“I… I don’t think I ever believed I could have one.”

“You’re wrong,” she announced.

“You are very confident for someone so young,” Castiel said.

“And you are very foolish for someone so old,” she replied with a laugh.

Castiel smiled at her.

“You may be right.”

He thought about the way he had left things with Dean and felt an acute sense of remorse. He had always told himself that his feelings would not be returned, that the best thing for him was to think on higher things and let Dean go his own way with Lisa or anyone else he might choose. But he also knew that he had hurt Dean. Many times, actually, but this last time perhaps worse than the others because of its… _intimate_ nature. How could he have just left Dean like that? After all the people who had abandoned Dean before, it was probably the worst thing he could have done. Better to have stayed and faced up to his own possible heartbreak than to lie to himself and to Dean and flee like he had done.

Just then he was disturbed out of his musings by the vibration of his cellular phone in his coat pocket. He pulled it out and read the name on the screen: _Sam_.

“Is that the person you miss?” Carlene asked, a look of empathy now on her face.

Castiel shook his head.

“Well, I hope you go find him or her. I can see in your eyes how lovesick you are. Leave the moping to us teenagers, okay? You deserve a happy ending as much as anyone else here.” She smiled affectionately at him and got up from the booth.

“Thank you,” Castiel said sincerely.

“Take care,” she replied, squeezing him on the shoulder, and turned to leave the café.

Castiel looked back down at the phone in his hand. He took a deep breath and raised it to his ear.

“Sam?”


	9. Crossed Out Name

_I wish I could tell you just how I felt / I don't pray, I shower and say goodnight to myself  
And when I close my eyes, I feel like a page with a crossed out name_

 

Dean was still pissed at Sammy for even _suggesting_ they call Cas for help. And now he was actually doing it right in front of him?? They could handle the goddamn case on their own! Who cared if they had found some parchments with Enochian scrawled all over them? It's not like there weren't _other_ angels out there somewhere, right? With a little more time he was sure they could have figured out a way to summon one. But no, Sam had to go be a little bitch and dial-an-angel the easy way.

Dean paced back and forth by the Impala as he listened to his brother's side of the conversation. He heard Sam thank Cas, so he assumed he had agreed to help. Ugh. He turned to give Sam another piece of his mind but pulled up sharply when Cas appeared mere inches from his face.

"Damnit, Cas! Don't _do_ that!" he growled and stomped over to his brother.

"Thanks again for coming," Sam said, shooting Dean a glare.

This was going to be awkward as all hell. Not for the first time, Dean cursed himself for finding the stupid parchments in that crazy neo-pagan's basement to begin with. Just 'cause they were looking for whatever possibly enchanted chemicals had blown up the idjit mid ritual didn't mean he had to go and scour every nook and cranny seeking out even more trouble. But no, he had trusted his hunter instincts, and now here they were. Awesome.

Dean snuck a glance at Cas and noted that the angel looked at least as uncomfortable as he was. Well, that was something. Might as well share the misery. He was unusually jittery and kept looking around nervously. When his eyes happened to catch Dean's, they froze and sent out an almost pleading look. Dean was shocked to see just how strung out Cas appeared. What the hell had he been up to lately? Was he regretting how he had left things? He saw Cas open his mouth to say something, but Sam started talking first.

"So Dean found the parchments in some kind of hidden chamber in the guy's basement. The wall had weird engraving all over it that you should probably take a look at too - Cas?"

Cas dropped his eyes from Dean's and turned back to Sam and nodded.

"Okay, let's go!" Sam concluded and went to get in the car. Dean sighed and looked to the sky. He hated this case so much already, he almost wished it had been witches.

 

~*~

 

"It's a prayer," Cas announced, looking at a document in the basement.

"Okay..." Sam looked skeptical. "Can you translate it for us?"

Cas nodded and read aloud,

> _Listen Fates, who sit nearest of gods to the throne of Zeus, and weave with shuttles of adamant, inescapable devices for counsels of every kind beyond counting, Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis, fine-armed daughters of Night, hearken to our prayers, all-terrible goddesses, of sky and earth. Send us rose-bossomed Lawfulness, and her sisters on glittering thrones, Right and crowned Peace, and make this city forget the misfortunes which lie heavily on her heart._

"Why the hell would anyone pray for _that_?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Because, my dear," an unfamiliar woman's voice called out from behind them. They all spun to face the intruder. "Some people wisely recognize that without Fate, all is chaos."

Dean looked over the strange newcomer. She appeared to be a young, attractive woman with fair skin and long, dark auburn hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Her figure was slim but well proportioned, and she showed it off with a low-cut, fitted black dress that hugged her body down to the knees and matched her red trimmed black stiletto heels. It should have been hot, really - kind of a femme fatale look. But something about her felt so _severe_. Her features were sharp and her expression stony. In one hand she held a roughly yard-length black rod. She tapped it a few times into her other palm. Dean had a sudden feeling that she would be the perfect incarnation of his hot, evil high school principal nightmares.

"Lachesis," Cas said in a low tone. It seemed they were already acquainted.

"Castiel," she mimicked in a baritone voice, eyeing him with a wicked grin.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You, my darling angel, have exceeded your allotment," she replied.

Cas's eyes widened. Dean didn't know what was going on, but that sounded like a threat. And regardless of how he may have felt about Cas just moments earlier, he really hated to see him look so scared.

"Wanna let the rest of us in on what's going on here?" Dean butted in.

"How many times have you been brought back, Castiel?" Lachesis asked, not looking at Dean. She began to slowly pace out a circle around them, heels clicking sinisterly on the cement floor with each step.

Cas said nothing.

"Come on, dear, this is easy!" she taunted. "Well, let's see, first there was that time you got Archangel-blasted with your friend the prophet. Then of course we had the whole Apocalypse debacle - I believe my sister let you know how we feel about all of that. Next somebody let those pesky Leviathans out of the zoo - that one really came back to bite you in the butt, eh darling? Am I missing anything? Oh yes, exploding 'Dick' and Purgatory."

"Okay, so what do you want?" Sam, practical as always, got to the point.

"Isn't it obvious?" She feigned surprise at their ignorance. "Time's up, feathers! Put down your pencils and hand in your tests. The buzzer has _buzzzzzed_. The repo man's come a'knockin'! Last stop on the Red Line. No timeouts, no call-a-friend - you are outta time and outta luck. The Fat Lady. Has. Sung."

Okay, hot evil _insane_ high school principal. Dean really did not like the direction this was taking. He looked over at Cas but couldn't catch his eye. Did he have a plan to get out of this? Dean didn't know anything about this Lachesis bitch but somehow he doubted his gun was going to do much against her.

"I think you're getting the picture now," she purred. "Don't worry babe, I'll even let you pick out your next lot. Won't be with these clowns, of course, but I could get you set up real sweet in another galaxy in a few millennia or so."

"Yeah, fuck that. Cas isn't going anywhere," Dean warned her angrily.

"Aww Cassy, your pet doesn't want you to leave!" she said with a pouty face.

"Dean, stay out of this." Cas stared at him intently. "She is far more powerful than you know."

Apparently Dean's body did not give a damn about appropriate timing or situation because that deep voice and intense look sent blood rushing to all the wrong places. Shit! Stay focused!

"I'm not letting her take you," Dean told Cas. They locked gazes and Dean was surprised to see so much emotion in Cas's eyes. He looked so sad and yet so hopeful all at once. Dean felt like his heart would burst from looking at him.

"Hmm... You know, Dean Winchester, wonder boy extraordinaire, you make an interesting point." Lachesis tapped her way over to him and gave his ass a flirty smack with her staff.

"Mmm, nice. I see why he likes you."

Dean jumped away and made a mental note to keep his front to her at all times.

"You could make a trade," she continued casually, as if she were suggesting they switch weekends at a timeshare. "That's kind of a pastime for you Winchesters, isn't it?"

She laughed gleefully.

"Your thread is coming up a bit short these days too, isn't it, dear? You've had some exciting comebacks, but it does have to end eventually after all. If you'd like, I can cut some off your thread of life and get my dear sister to spin it on to Castiel's."

"Dean, do not even consider - " Cas tried to interject, but Dean waved him off.

"How much time?" he asked.

"Oh that's for me to measure and you to find out, darling! Who among us knows their fate, right?" she teased.

"Look, no one is cutting any threads or choosing their next lot or anything like that," Sam stepped in. "Let's all be reasonable and discuss this like adults."

"Oh Sam, darling, I'd almost forgotten you!" She click click clicked around the room to get to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He shrugged her off in annoyance.

"Now don't be like that, doll, you have the most amazing underdog comeback Cinderella story of them all - you escaped Lucifer's cage itself!" She put a hand over her heart and pretended to swoon. Sam frowned.<

"If you're feeling left out, I can deal you in too."

She shrugged and walked back over to Cas.

"Listen up fellahs, this has been swell and all, but I've got places to be, threads to measure, you know the deal. But because I've always thought of myself as the 'nice' sister, I'm going to leave you with a choice: you get to pick whose time is up. Ah ah - it's all measured out just the same, but I'll give you a sort of group special and let you divvy up what's left amongst yourselves. That's what you've always wanted, right? 'Free will'?"

She tossed her head back and let out a maniacal laugh.

"You have two days to decide! 'May the odds be ever in your favor' - or something like that. Toodaloo!"

She vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, leaving them alone again in the basement.


	10. Desire

_What is this fire / Burning slowly  
My one and only / Desire_

 

"Have I mentioned lately that Fate is a cold hearted evil BITCH?" Dean complained angrily to no one in particular.

"Dean."

Dean looked back and found that Cas had walked up close to him. Too close, really. He raised an eyebrow and waited for Cas to go on.

"Dean, you cannot make a bargain with Lachesis. If my time has ended, then I must accept it. You still have much to offer."

Dean groaned in exasperation.

"I am so damn tired of your bullshit, Cas!"

Cas dropped his eyes.

"I will say nothing more on the matter."

Great. Now he looked like a friggin' kicked puppy. Dean put his hands on his hips and grimaced. Sam was right - Cas always came back. And he always got suckered back in like the fool that he was. He wanted to say something comforting to Cas, touch him, make him feel safe - but it was too painful. He knew now that Cas didn't feel the same way he did. He had been misreading him all these years. Maybe he was misreading him right now too. Maybe Dean was just projecting his feelings onto Cas and he didn't need any sympathy after all.

Dean rubbed his brow and turned to head back up the stairs.

"Dean, wait, please," he heard Cas say behind him.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and pushed past Dean.

"I'm just gonna, uh..." Sam gestured vaguely up the stairs then quickly vanished up them before Dean could get in a response. Typical. Bitch couldn't even come up with an excuse this time, just up and left him to deal with this mess.  


Dean turned back to face the music.  


He recoiled in surprise as Cas suddenly took him in a tight embrace. What the hell was going on? Dean raised his arms helplessly as Cas buried his face into his neck. Could this day get any more uncomfortable?? 

"Um, Cas?"  


"I missed you," Cas said into Dean's shoulder. Huh. Not exactly an "I'm sorry" but then this was the person that thought board games could express apology and sandwiches stand in for solidarity.  


"Ahh, okay..." Dean reached up and pulled Cas back a bit so he could look in his eyes. Cas gazed back desperately, searching Dean's face for some telling reaction. Dean was so caught off guard he didn't know what to say.  


He didn't get a chance to say anything anyways because Cas suddenly crushed his lips onto Dean's in a needy, painful kiss.  


Oh wow his body really did not give two shits about pride or letting Cas breeze back into his life only to inevitably take flight again later. Dean felt his earlier concerns slip away from his mind as he returned and deepened the kiss. He'd missed Cas, and after all, this could easily be the last days on Earth for one or both of them. No point in denying himself now, right?  


Dean pulled Cas in closer, pressing their bodies together. Cas pushed against him hard, then suddenly stepped back and raised a hand to Dean's temple.  


"Oh not that - "  


Cas beamed them back to the motel room.  


" - again."  


That would never get less disconcerting. Dean shrugged it off and looked around. Well, being in a bedroom _did_ have its advantages.  


Before he could think on it any more, Cas was on him again, attacking his lips and bunching hands in his shirt.  


Cas backed him into a dresser then pulled off Dean's jacket and shirt in rapid succession, barely pausing in his kisses to move the fabric over Dean's face.  


"Holy hell, Cas!" Dean could hardly get a grip on him as he hastened to press kisses, hickeys, and little bites from Dean's lips to his neck and torso. Somehow Cas had pushed him up a bit more so that he was pretty much sitting on the dresser. Cas shoved up against his crotch while grabbing his ass to pull him forward. It felt like a move Dean would make on a girl, but he pushed the thought away because the contact felt _amazing_. He ran one hand under Cas's shirt and along his warm smooth back. With the other, he grabbed Cas by the back of the neck to hold him still enough to focus on one long, deep, passionate kiss. When he eventually pulled back, the sight of Cas was breathtaking. His pupils were blown so wide with arousal that his eyes looked more black than blue. His face was flushed, cheeks a shocking shade of pink contrasted against his fair skin. And his mouth hung open a little, panting slightly, waiting for Dean to make the next move. Dean was past ready to take things to the next level and to get off his now way too tight pants. 

"Bed, now," Dean commanded and slid forward off the dresser.  


"Mmhmm" Cas murmured into his mouth. Cas gripped him tightly and turned them without breaking the kiss. He didn't make it all the way to the bed, however, as Cas gave up halfway and pushed Dean up against the motel room's door instead.  


"I said - " Dean began to reiterate his instruction but stopped abruptly as Cas dropped to his knees in front of him and unzipped his fly. Sweet mother of god! Cas liberated Dean's cock, held it steady at the base with one hand, and licked a wide swath up its entire length, flicking the tip of his tongue at the slit as he pulled off the end. Dean's whole body involuntarily shuddered.  


"Jesus, Cas! Where'd you learn to do _that_?"  


"I watch people. And learn things."  


"You are such a perv - FUCK!" Dean all but choked on what he'd been about to say. He gripped the doorframe on either side to steady himself as he slumped back against the door. What Cas was doing was amazing and totally unexpected. He'd like to know just what he’d been watching! Cas teased him playfully with his tongue at first then applied more pressure. He felt fingers run lightly up his inner thigh and shivered. By the time Cas brought his hand up to grasp him tightly he was so worked up he nearly came just from the sudden relief at the pressure.

Dean swallowed tightly and closed his eyes. He felt Cas adjust the fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, then suddenly a sense of warmth and wetness as Cas took the rest of him into his mouth. Jesus that felt good! He held himself back to keep from bucking into Cas's throat. Deep breaths.

As Cas's tongue twisted and pressed with exquisite finesse, Dean's heart beat faster and he felt a familiar tension building low in his abdomen. He knew he should warn Cas.

"Cas, I uh - ahh... I'm so close and - oh _God..."_

It was hard to get any words out in his present condition. No response from Cas.

"Cas?" He swallowed and counted to ten. "You might want to... back... off... or..."

Cas gripped him harder in response. The hand that wasn't pumping was surely leaving finger-shaped bruises where it clutched Dean's hip.

Dean opened his eyes reluctantly and looked down. A mop of dark shaggy hair bobbed beneath him. And those lips...

Dean put his hand in Cas's hair and pulled lightly. Cas responded by quickening his pace and pressure and suddenly Dean was coming _hard_. White flashed in front of his eyes and it took him a good thirty seconds to come down.

When he did get back a semblance of control over his body, he loosened his grip on Cas's hair and sighed deeply. Cas pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of that ridiculous dirty trench coat that of course he was still wearing. Dean sunk down to the floor opposite him.

"You are fucking full of surprises." Dean chuckled contentedly. "And you're wearing an absurd amount of clothing."

He leaned forward and kissed Cas while pulling the coat down off his shoulders. The slight taste of himself on Cas's lips sent an exepected shot of pleasure through him. He pulled off Cas's shirt too and pushed him to lean back a bit so he could get at the button on his jeans.

Feeling how hard Cas was from blowing him was so hot that Dean felt himself start to get turned on again already. He slipped his hand into the top of Cas's boxers and started by caressing those gorgeous hipbones. Now that he had him mostly unclothed at last he could really appreciate his slim lines. He wasn't as muscular as Dean was, but he was toned and his skin was so soft to the touch. Dean ran his fingers over Cas's stomach as he leaned in to nuzzle where his neck met his shoulder. He started to suck on the skin there and felt Cas shiver in response. Okay now it was definitely time for the bed.

Dean got to his feet then pulled Cas up to join him. Cas smiled into the kiss he planted on Dean's lips, then pushed him back so that Dean's knees hit the edge of the mattress and he tumbled flat on his back onto the bed.

"You mischievous little..."

"Stop talking," Cas told him. Mischievous and bossy. Dean could get into that...

Cas crawled over him and started to tug Dean's pants and boxers off. He threw them onto the floor then quickly lost his own. Wait a sec. Dean was still the one laying on the bed but...

Cas was back over him before he knew it, kissing Dean passionately and gripping his upper arms with the kind of strength one would not expect from someone with his slight frame. Dean felt himself relax into the touches. Okay maybe being pushed around by an _Angel of the Lord_ wasn't that emasculating. Maybe it was even kind of hot.

Whatever reservations Dean's mind might have had about the arrangement were clearly not shared by his body. He was already completely hard again and leaking precum onto his abdomen. He could see that Cas was in a similar state so he reached down to stroke his partner a few times.

Cas moaned into the kiss. Then he pulled back a bit and used his own hand, getting his fingers slickened with the liquid. He scooted back a bit and leaned down a bit to kiss Dean’s stomach softly. He felt Cas kiss a line from his belly button on down until suddenly his body jolted as he felt a finger freakin' penetrate him.

"Some warning, Cas!"

Cas looked up and made a face.

"I thought my intentions were obvious."

Well yeah, if Dean looked back at it _now_.

"Okay, well, get that bottle of lube out of my bag at least - outside pocket."

If they were going to do it this way - and it seemed like they were - might as well do it right.

As Cas fumbled with Dean's duffel, Dean closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. This wouldn't work if he didn’t relax. He imagined how Cas had looked just minutes earlier with his lips wrapped around his cock, so desperately passionate and mmm okay Dean was definitely getting in the zone now.

Cas came back and kissed Dean's thigh from the back of his knee on up in a slow, tantalizing pattern. As he did so, he slipped a now well lubed finger into Dean's entrance. Dean tried not to stiffen, and after a few moments, he felt comfortable again.

Cas's kisses reached their target and he gave some more attention to Dean's eager cock while he worked in a second finger. By the time he slipped in a third, Dean was aching for it.

"Now, Cas," he panted.

Cas didn't need to be told twice. To his credit he pulled his fingers out slowly - it still stung - and lubed up before aligning himself at Dean's entrance.

"Are you sure?" Cas asked.

"Yes!" Dean was feeling the loss already and yearned to be filled up again.

Cas pushed in slowly. Dean had to admit it did hurt. Kind of a lot. But Cas was so gentle and patient. He rubbed a hand reassuringly along Dean's pelvis then up to his chest. He squeezed Dean's shoulder when he reached it, then leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. By then Cas was all the way in and it was starting to feel less painful and more just vaguely uncomfortable. Dean took a deep breath.

" _Move_ ," he whispered to Cas.

Cas looked down and seemed to search Dean's expression for any sign that he wasn't really ready. Desire could not have been written any plainer on Cas's face. So much want and lust, and even some small element not unlike worship. To be all that to someone was kind of terrifying - but thrilling at the same time.

Cas pushed himself up a bit to get in a better position then slowly began to move within Dean. It felt incredible. After a few minutes, Dean couldn't hold back a soft moan.

Cas must have taken that as a cue to step things up a bit because he soon began to quicken the pace. He was breathing fast and alternating between looking down reverently at Dean and scrunching closed his eyes like there were too many sensations for him to take in at once.

All of a sudden Cas thrust in such a way that it hit some spot deep within Dean and he cried out.

Cas froze and looked at him with an expression of horror, probably afraid he'd just broken him or something.

"No, no - that's good," Dean panted out. "Again..."

So Cas obliged. Good? More like fucking spectacular! Despite having just had one of the most mind blowing orgasms of his life, Dean could feel himself getting close again already. Cas's motions started to become more erratic. He must be almost there too.

"Dean - " Cas breathed.

"Yeah, Cas?" Oh _god_ this was otherworldly...

"Can I...?" He looked at Dean for permission.

"Yes. Yes, Cas - " Dean couldn't say any more so he just looked into Cas's eyes reassuringly.

Cas gripped him even tighter and he shoved in hard a few more times, then called out Dean's name and collapsed on top of him.

Hearing Cas say his name like that was all it took to push Dean over the edge too.

As they lay there catching their breaths, Dean ran his fingers through Cas's hair one more time.

" _You're amazing,"_  he whispered.

" _Dean..."_ Cas looked at him with an expression of wonderment. The way he said his name encompassed all that Dean needed to hear. He smiled sleepily and pressed a kiss to Cas's forehead.  


Cas pulled out and Dean smarted at the sudden sense of muscles cramping back into place. He was going to be feeling that tomorrow for sure. He rolled over and started to get up to get a towel to clean up, but Cas pulled him back.  


"I was just going to get something for, you know - " he gestured at the mess.  


Cas lazily raised a eyebrow and took in the scene. Then he angel voodoo zapped it all away. Well if he could heal diseases and repair life threatening injuries, Dean figured a little bodily fluid was no challenge.  


He lay back down close to Cas and looked into his eyes. Cas smiled and pulled himself closer till he was resting his head on Dean's shoulder with an arm draped over his chest and legs intertwined beneath the sheets. Dean reached up with his free arm and caressed Cas's arm and back. Soon he heard the steady breathing of peaceful sleep. Cas may have had his full angel powers back, but it was nice to know that Dean could still knock the everloving mojo out of him for a bit. Dean smiled happily. He closed his eyes and soon fell into a happy, dreamless sleep.


	11. Easy Hearts

_I’ve had a pretty hard life / For such an easy heart_

 

The next morning as they left for breakfast, Sam pulled Castiel aside with a hand on his arm.

“Cas, you know you’re my friend and I care about you,” Sam said to him with one of his ‘serious’ faces.

“Yes, Sam, we’re friends,” Castiel replied. It was stating the obvious, but Sam seemed to expect an a reply.

“Right. We are. But if you fuck around with my brother’s feelings one more time – I will gank you _myself_. You got that?”

Castiel suddenly felt very uncomfortable under Sam’s glare.

“Got it.”

“Good.”

“You girls gonna stand there talking all morning or are we getting some freakin’ pancakes??” Dean called out, already at the car.

Sam immediately put on a smile and called back, “Coming!”

As he watched Sam’s receding back, Castiel thought that it was more than a little unsettling how quickly the man could switch emotions. He would not want to cross Sam Winchester. Fortunately, he had no intention of doing anything to earn his ire anyways. Castiel smiled as he remembered the amazing, positively _transcendent_ night he had just shared with Dean. He knew it hadn't fixed everything between him and Dean, but he was going to stay and keep trying this time. Yes, Sam could relax – there was nothing in this world or any other that could take him away from his brother. 

 

~*~ 

 

“So since I had some time to myself last night…” Sam said while cutting into what Castiel knew from the menu was the “ _Start The Day Right Special_ \- free range egg white omelet with organic spinach and heirloom tomatoes.” Sam brought the fork to his mouth and looked from him to Dean as he chewed. 

Dean’s cheeks reddened and he glared down at his “ _Old Timey Flapjacks_ \- steel ground oat and wheat pancakes with vegan lemon herb butter and local orchard fruit preserves.”

“You went online and somehow found the only healthy diner in Arkansas?” Dean suggested.

“No, I did some research into Lachesis,” Sam replied.

Dean shrugged and poked at the pancakes with his fork.

Castiel was not actually hungry but he had let Dean order him pancakes anyways. It was not deficient relative to any other human food, as far as he could tell, but Dean did not seem satisfied.

“There’s not even whipped cream,” he muttered.

“I’m sure we can ask for some naturally sweetened almond soy mousse - ”

“Forget it. So, Lachesis?”

“Right, so from what I read, she’s one of the three Moirai, or ‘Fates’ in Greek mythology,” Sam continued.<

“Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos,” Castiel offered.

“You know them?” Dean asked.

“I’ve encountered one of sisters before - Atropos,” he replied. Castiel reflected uncomfortably on that confrontation. He had never told the brothers what had happened, and he was loath to do so now. She had promised to stay away from the Winchesters in return for him undoing some of his previous life-saving interventions, but clearly the agreement did not extend to staying away from _him_ as well. Still, Castiel did not think Dean and Sam needed to know how many more lives had been lost on their behalf, or just how far he was willing to go to keep them safe. Or his other less honorable motivations, for that matter. Atropos had warned him then about her sisters – “bigger in every way,” she had said – but he had not come up against one until now. He wished he knew what had become of Balthazar’s knife. It was the only item he was aware of that had the power to kill a Moirai and now it was lost, like the angel who had held it. _Balthazar_. Castiel tried to avoid thinking about his fallen brother, or how he had met his end. When he did remember, it was almost too overwhelming.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked and reached out to put a hand on top of his. Castiel was grateful for the gesture, but did not want to talk about it, so he returned the conversation to the sisters of Fate.

“Clotho weaves the thread of life, Lachesis measures its length, and Atropos ensures that each person meets his or her destiny.”

“So Lachesis is like some kind of supernatural bank accountant - she saw that you’re overdrafting, and now she’s come ‘round to collect,” Sam concluded.

Castiel was not entirely sure what that meant, but he thought he got the gist of it.

“I wonder why she hasn’t come for us before?” Dean asked lightly. He made a disgusted face as he tried some of the pancakes.

“Yeah, what about that, Cas?” Sam questioned. “Dean and I have both come back from what presumably would have been ‘timely’ ends – so why is she after you and not us? And why now? You escaped Purgatory months ago.”<>

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. How to answer without outright lying…

“The sisters must have their reasons.”

Sam looked at him with suspicion, but didn’t press the matter.

“And I suspect this is not her first attempt to bring matters into order,” Castiel continued.

"By 'into order' you mean kill you?" Dean asked.

"Something like that, yes."

“The angel blade at the circus,” Sam suggested.

“Quite possibly,” Castiel replied.

“The gold thread I found!” Dean suddenly made the connection. “Just like the bookmark Atropos had in her book of destiny. She must have been mixed up in whatever it was you escaped before coming here.”

“I cannot say,” Castiel replied. “The Moirai may have been subtly orchestrating events to end my life for some time, but at last Lachesis has resorted to direct intervention.”

“Sho ‘ow dooee shtop ‘er?” Dean asked through a mouthful of pancakes. Apparently his objections to healthy food had been forgotten for he chewed away contentedly now and loaded up another forkful.

“That I’m no so sure about…” Sam leaned back and put on one of his ‘thoughtful’ faces. “I went through some of the other documents we got from that wacked out pagan’s basement. Most of them were in Greek but he did have some notes in English. From what I could tell, he’d been trying to summon the Moirai before things took a rather… explosive turn.”

Castiel realized that he’d never actually learned why they’d been investigating the basement with the parchments to begin with. From the sound of it, the owner had not been an expert at mixing potions.

“So get this,” Sam said. “Shuffled in with the parchments giving instructions on how to summon the sisters were some fragments that I think are about their weaknesses.”

That sounded promising. Castiel asked to see the papers and Sam pulled them out of his coat.

“Here, this one – ” Sam laid a parchment on the table. At the top someone had written in pencil “ _To send sisters back – Do NOT use except in emergency!!_ ” with the last phrase underlined twice. Castiel read the original Greek and translated it for the Winchesters: 

> _Listen slaves to the Fates, ye who sit below the gods and control not thy Destinies, who suffer the caprices of the daughters of Night, the inescapable passage of time, the fraying threads of life. Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis, terrible goddesses of sky and earth, submit to none save he who wields power equal in Essence and Strength._

There were some lines about Atropos and Clotho after that, so he skimmed down to the part addressing Lachesis: 

> _Send away she who knows the length of thy thread. Break the rod that measures thy days with her shuttle of adamant bathed in the poison of her Spirit made corporeal._

“You sure you read that in English, ‘cause that sounded like Greek to me!” Dean said with a self-satisfied grin. Sam groaned and put a hand over his face.

“Yes, I translated into contemporary English. Did you not hear, Dean?” Castiel looked at Dean with concern but the man just laughed. Some aspect of human humor he had not yet mastered, apparently.

“Please ignore my brother acting like a nine year old, Cas,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. “Does the text mean anything to you?”

“It appears to describe the items necessary to repulse Lachesis. She can only be defeated with power that is equal in ‘essence and strength.’”

“Well we know that Lachesis measures the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod,” Sam mused. “Do you think that’s what that black staff was?”

“I expect so,” Castiel replied. “It seems we must break the staff, which can only be done by something made of adamant – equal in strength – which has been dipped in a poisonous liquid somehow related to her essence.”

“Snakes,” Dean announced. He had pulled out the laptop to search for more information on the ‘world wide web.’ From what Castiel understood, this was somewhat like when he tuned in to hear his brothers and sisters communicating on angelic wavelengths. Sam and Dean could contact other humans all over the world instantly with the device. Dean turned the computer so that he and Sam could see the image of a large brown and black snake on the screen.

“ _Lachesis muta_ a.k.a. bushmaster a.k.a. one of the mostly deadly snakes in the world and it has that bitch as its namesake. Sounds like the ‘poisonous corporate spirit’ or whatever you said a minute ago,” Dean told them.

“Spirit made corporeal,” Castiel corrected him. It did seem like a promising theory.

“That’s great Dean, but it says the snake only lives in remote parts of South America,” Sam pointed out.

“I will retrieve it,” Castiel offered.

“Okay then – that’s one part down,” Dean shrugged and continued. “What about the shuttle of adamant? Is that like a really determined spaceship…?”

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groaned in frustration. “Shuttle, you know, like weaving – weaving _threads_.” He made a motion with his hand mimicking the process.

“How am I supposed to know stuff like that?” Dean countered defensively. “And the adamant?” He shoved another big forkful of pancakes into his mouth and glared at his brother.

“Adamant is a term dating to Medieval times – it’s the name of a stone known for being the hardest material in the world,” Castiel informed them.

“Awesome, where can we get that?” Dean asked as he raised his glass of organic locally harvested orange juice to wash down the pancakes.

“It doesn’t exist.”

“What?” Dean spat out orange juice all over the table. “But you just said - ”

“It is a Medieval concept, but the stone itself is legendary,” Castiel explained.

“One – gross, Dean! Keep your juice confined to your throat or the glass, please,” Sam said. “Two – maybe the actual stone is legendary, but if you take it at its literal meaning, couldn’t we just get whatever is the hardest stone in existence?”

“Good idea, Sammy,” Dean replied and tossed a napkin at him across the table. “I know this one – diamond! Should be easy enough to get some bling on credit with one of our cards.”

“Actually,” Sam said while using the napkin to wipe off the laptop, “It says here that the stone with highest bulk modulus is ore of osmium.”

“Well at least that’s probably cheaper,” Dean shrugged.

“Except it’s the single least abundant element in the Earth’s crust,” Sam replied.

“Of course it is.” Dean sighed.

“I’ll collect it,” Castiel interjected.

“You think you can?” Sam asked. “It looks like the biggest mine is this one in South Africa.” He showed Castiel on the screen.

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “The text doesn’t say we need a large amount of adamant. I’ll acquire a sample from the mine.”

“Great. Well, I think we have a plan!” Sam announced. “We have until tomorrow night to come up with this stuff and get ready. I'll keep reading to see if there is any more information that could be useful to us.”

“Okay. How can I help?” Dean asked.

“You could come with me,” Castiel offered. Dean looked at him and smiled slightly.

“I don’t think I’d be very useful,” he said.

“I would rather have you – useful or not,” Castiel replied. Dean recognized the twist on his own words thrown back and him and laughed lightly.

“Okay, count me in.”


	12. Chains of Love

_And everything you are to me is bigger than the spaces  
Between us and the chains of love_

 

"So? Pretty awesome, right?" Dean twirled in the motel room, showing off his new Peruvian poncho. Sam snickered behind him. Dean reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a colorful knit hat with earflaps and tassels. He put the hat on and grinned maniacally.

"Don't worry, we got stuff for you too!" Dean reached back into the bag then handed Castiel another vibrantly colored wool poncho and cap.

"You didn't tell him that the viper is native to the rainforest, not the Andes?" he asked Sam quietly.

"And ruin this?" Sam scoffed. "No way! You know how he loves costumes."

Castiel looked at the outfit warily.

"Come on, feathers, get yer sheep on!" Dean grabbed the poncho and pulled it over Castiel's head, then plopped the hat on top. Castiel stood motionless, not sure what to make of the situation. Sam erupted into laughter behind Dean.

"You acquired a trap for the snake as well?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, we got that too," Sam answered.

Castiel decided that it was time to go. He took the trap from Sam then walked over to Dean and pressed fingers to his forehead.

"A little warning, Cas?!" Dean shouted a split second later. It seemed he was still unused to the form of transport.

Castiel took a moment to survey their surroundings. He had taken them to Parque Nacional del Manú in Peru, an expansive protected habitat encompassing hundreds of kilometers of wild jungle - the perfect habitat for _Lachesis muta_ , or as the locals referred to it, "shushúpe." They had already acquired the osmium earlier in the day, so this was the last step to prepare for the Moirai.

"Holy hell, it's got to be a hundred degrees here!" Dean observed and pulled at the collar of his poncho.

"Closer to 85 Fahrenheit or 30 Celsius, I believe," Castiel noted.

"Ugh, and more humid than friggin' Cajun vampire country!" Dean complained.

Dean took off his hat and poncho reluctantly. He walked over to Castiel and pulled his poncho over his head too. They were standing very close.

"You know, we haven't been alone all day," he said and looked down at Castiel, biting his lip. Castiel had noticed this too and had been pining to get Dean on his own.

Dean leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Castiel closed his eyes and put his hands on Dean's waist, pulling him closer. He felt his body respond to the contact and he yearned to take Dean right then and there, but they had another mission, so he pulled back.

"The viper," Castiel explained somewhat glumly.

"Right," Dean agreed. "Well, let's go find the son of a bitch."

Castiel had landed them in a northwest section of the park where he expected it would be easiest to catch a representative of the snake genus they sought. He suggested they put down the trap in a low lying area a few paces away and wait for a viper to emerge.

They put the baited trap into place and Dean laid out the ponchos on the ground for them to sit on while they waited.

"Wish we'd brought something to drink," Dean lamented.

That could easily be accommodated. Castiel beamed to the nearest drinking establishment, grabbed a bottle of a semi-opaque yellow liquid, and beamed back before Dean even noticed.

"Oh, nice!" Dean took the bottle from Castiel and screwed it open. He took a sip and puckered his lips. "Sour," he commented. He looked at the label. "Pisco. Huh. But it's not bad." He took another long drag from the bottle then handed it back to Castiel.

Castiel doubted the liquor would have much of an effect on him, but he took a drink of it anyways.

For a while neither of them spoke. But it was far from quiet. Castiel listened to the sounds of the Amazonian rain forest. The calls of the frogs, birds, and insects made for a symphony no less grand than the one by Beethoven he had listened to again and again, sitting with Fred in the nursing home a few months past. Humans were messy, irrational beings, but they did know how to appreciate beauty. Castiel understood why they were so dear to his Father. And why they were dear to him too. Some more than others... He looked over at Dean.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean."

"Yeah, me too, Cas..." Dean turned to him with brows scrunched up, studying him. "Is everything okay?"

"Other than how I might die tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Dean chuckled, "Other than that."

"I've been reflecting a lot lately," Castiel sighed. "I told you before that if I saw what had become of heaven, after what I'd made of it - I was afraid I might kill myself... Now Lachesis comes for me, and I wonder if maybe there's some justice to it - maybe she's just doing what I haven't had the courage to do myself... How many more would have survived in the absence of the chaos I wrought, if my days had ended when my thread first ran out..."

Dean was silent for a moment then looked into Castiel's eyes.

"Listen to me, Cas," he said seriously. "When we first met, you said that I thought I didn't deserve to be saved. Well, you were right then. But a lot has happened in the last five years. Now I think _you_ are the one who doesn't believe he's worth saving - but you're wrong."

"The things I've done, Dean..." Castiel felt pained to talk about it. But it was Dean after all, and there was no one he trusted more.

"Samandriel. The destruction in heaven," he continued, quietly. "You know, I killed my closest friend. Other than you, I mean."

"Balthazar?" Dean prompted.

"Yes," he replied.

"You miss him, don't you?" Dean observed with empathy.

"Yes. And others. But it's a small personal price to pay for so many crimes. Why was I given another chance? I should have stayed in Purgatory! I put myself above everyone else. I lied to and betrayed all of my friends. I didn't ask for help when I needed it and others suffered the results. I killed more than I can count for what I believed was a just cause. But I went far too far, and now there's no going back." Castiel rubbed his eyes, as if by that action he could wipe away the visions of it all.

"When you've seen the terrible consequences of your actions, how can you ever forget it??" he pleaded.

"You don't, Cas," Dean replied, looking into his eyes earnestly. "You keep it with you forever, just like the rest of us do. But that doesn't mean you're not a good person or not worthwhile, that you can't change and learn from your mistakes - hell, we're all fuck ups around here. If I hadn't traded my soul to a freakin' crossroads demon, or if Sammy hadn't 'Oops! Started the Apocalypse!' - you wouldn't even have gotten involved in all this mess to begin with."

"That's true," Castiel acknowledged with a small smile.

"And don't get me started on that staying in Purgatory bullshit."

Castiel looked at Dean, confused.

"You wanted to stay in there so you could mope around like an emo teenager, obsessing over your sins and doing not a bit of good for anybody, including yourself? Wasn't that just as selfish as anything else you'd done? What about me, Cas? After I'd done everything to find you, and then without even giving me a chance to talk you out of it... Don't you think I need you - _here -_ with me? Do you have any idea how awful it was those months when you were gone and I thought I'd never see you again? How could you do that to me when - " Dean stopped himself short and looked away, shaking his head, his face twisted in agony.

Castiel had never thought about his decision to stay behind from that perspective. Of course he hadn't thought Dean would be any worse off without him. Only now did he realize how his self-deprecation affected more than just him.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he said and reached on to put a hand on his arm. Dean looked back at him, hesitant.

"I've been a fool. I see the irony of it all now..."

"Hmm?"

"I rebelled against orders, I sought free will. But with free will comes choices, and the opportunity to make bad ones as well as good."

"That's not irony, Cas, that's just life."

"Okay, how's this for irony - I'm supposed to be your guardian angel, but _you_ are _my_ saving grace."

Dean covered Castiel's hand on his arm with his own.

"I still think that's kinda Alanis Morissette irony... but it's also one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me."

Castiel opened his mouth to reply but Dean waved him off and continued.

"Yeah yeah. I know you 'don't understand that reference.' But, listen, Cas, the important thing is - we save _each other_. And we _choose_ to do it! That's pretty awesome. Even when we fuck things up, at least we did it on our own! It's like your weird friggin' ecstatic shower experiences - 'how do you know what redemption is if you don't make an ass of yourself first, or how can you appreciate how good it feels to get clean until you've mucked around like a hog' or something like that only more angel-y sounding? Anyways, it's a lot better than anything those Moirai could cook up for us, right?"

"I don't think that's exactly what I said, but I understand your meaning." Castiel felt a sensation of warmth spreading through his chest. Dean understood him. Even better, he forgave him, in spite of everything! For a man who had so many reasons to be bitter, he remained an amazingly forgiving, generous person. It made Castiel love him even more. Yes, love him. That's what it was, no sense in denying it. Angels and men may be different in many ways, but surely his Father would have designed no creature without the capacity to love. He wanted to say something to Dean, but he wasn't sure quite how to phrase it, or if now was the right time. Before he could decide, the moment was over.

"Ugh it's still hot as balls," Dean groaned. He pulled off his shirt and used it to mop the sweat off his chest and neck. Castiel stared at the alluring sight in front of him and swallowed. Dean caught his look and winked.

"I think you're overdressed," he said. Dean swung over so that he was sitting in Castiel's lap facing him and pulled his shirt off over his head too. Castiel breathed in the smell of Dean so hot and close to him. It was far more intoxicating than the pisco had been.

Dean leaned in and kissed the side of his neck softly. Despite the heat, it sent a shiver down Castiel's spine. Dean sucked on the skin then pinched lightly with his teeth. Castiel made a noise not entirely unlike a whimper.

Dean must have been pleased by the response because Castiel could feel his smile against his skin. Dean kissed him again then licked the sweat up the side of his neck till he reached his mouth and gave Castiel a big messy kiss.

"Mmm... you're salty," Dean observed.

Castiel wrapped both arms around Dean's neck and kissed him back hard.

"So are you."

Dean took advantage of Castiel's posture to tip him backwards. He landed softly with his back to the poncho ground tarp, still wrapped up in Dean. He laughed lightly and nipped Dean's bottom lip.

He gasped when Dean dropped down and bit his nipple in return. He had always thought male nipples were a useless accident of evolution, but now he could see some point in them after all.

He bucked up into the touch, but Dean grabbed his pelvis for leverage and pushed him flat against the ground again. He straddled him with his legs pinning Castiel in place.

"This time we're doing things a little different," he said.

Oh... Castiel saw where this was going. Dean probably thought there would be some macho human battle of egos - but in reality Castiel could hardly wait for Dean to take him. He longed for every sensation with Dean, every closeness he could get, every intimacy. He felt the blood rush to his cock in eager anticipation of what was to come next.

Dean unbuckled and unzipped Castiel's jeans, then put a hand to his lower back to lift his hips so he could pull them and his boxers off. Dean made short work of the rest of his own clothes then climbed back over Castiel.

Castiel knew that Dean was considered attractive by human standards. He did have an appealing symmetry to his features, and his body was in excellent physical condition. But he had seen Dean's _soul_ \- the blinding magnificence of it overwhelmed any more material conception of beauty. He had to admit, though, that there was something heady and unique about this physical contact, body to body. He yearned for the feel of Dean's skin against his own. When Dean took his face in his hands and brushed a thumb over his lips before kissing him softly and slowly, it sent a thrill all through him that had no analogue in the spiritual domain. The spark of pleasurable pain kept him grounded when Dean nipped little love bites to his neck. The grip of Dean's strong hands on his hips sent waves of lust through him. And there was nothing, _nothing_ more intimately tangible, earthshatteringly corporeal, irrepressibly tactile than a deep, tongue-twisting, mouth-watering _kiss_.

Dean dropped down then and Castiel felt him take his cock into his mouth and begin to caress it with his tongue. Okay, maybe there were a few other things. But just a few.

Dean pulled back up and raised an index finger to indicate that he should wait a moment, then rummaged through the pile of discarded clothing till he found his jeans and pulled out a miniature plastic bottle.

"Be prepared, Scout!" Dean smirked at him and went back to his delightful activity.

Castiel felt a paradoxical sense of relaxation combined with building tension. After a few minutes, he felt a lubed finger poke into his entrance.

"Ah!"

Dean looked up at him without taking his mouth away. Castiel smiled at him then gasped, eyelids fluttering as he felt Dean move and twist inside him. By the time Dean had stretched him enough to get ready to push in, Castiel could hardly stand the anticipation.

Well, he had thought he was ready. Dean leaned over him and rubbed reassuring circles with his fingers on his chest.

"Sshh just relax, okay? Don't think about anything, just breathe slow... there you go."

Castiel followed the instructions as best he could and soon the initial discomfort passed and he was aching for more. He moved toward Dean, forcing him in deeper.

"Okay, bossy, don't get too eager!"

Dean started to move within him, slowly at first, then thrusting with more speed and vigor. It occurred to Castiel that most people wouldn't expect Dean to be such a gentle lover. But he wasn't surprised. Despite his projected brash persona, Dean had a gentle soul.

They were both sweating profusely in the heat of the rainforest. It slickened the motion of body again body. Dean lifted Castiel's legs and repositioned himself at a steeper angle. Castiel thought it was to get better leverage in their slippery state, but when Dean thrust in and hit a spot deep within him, he appreciated the other purpose. He couldn't suppress a soft moan at the sublime feel of it.

"Jesus, Cas..." Dean gave him a smoldering look - eyes blown wide with desire, sweat dripping from his brow.

Suddenly cool raindrops began to fall. They pelted every inch of exposed skin. Dean breathed in deeply, clearly savoring the feeling. The temperature in the rainforest must have dropped ten degrees in an instant. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw a brief glint of metal in motion. The realization of what it was lifted a burden he hadn't known he was carrying. He pulled Dean down and pressed a happy, hot kiss to his lips.

Dean looked down at him with an expression of pure ecstasy.

"Dean, Dean, _Dean..."_ Castiel couldn't help but say his name over and over. Everything in his world was Dean. Being with him like this was like taking the wonderful, miraculous, insane whole of life and distilling it down to its raw essence. _Dean_.

Dean closed his eyes and shuddered then shoved in hard and deep. Castiel gripped Dean's hips tightly and moved to meet his thrusts. Dean slammed in one last time and stayed there with mouth open but not even breathing. Castiel felt Dean come inside him and then he was coming too, spilling onto their already wet abdomens.

Dean leaned over to kiss him then pulled out slowly. He sat back on the poncho and picked up a now entirely drenched t-shirt to wipe himself down a bit. Then Castiel remembered the important thing he had meant to say to Dean.

"We bagged our snakes!" he called out.

Dean looked at him quizzically.

"Cas, are you trying to talk dirty...?"

"What? No. The shushúpe, the _Lachesis_ viper - there's two in the trap now. Look! I saw it swing shut a minute ago."

Dean laughed.

"Say it to Sam the first way when we get back. I wanna see his face."


	13. Let It Ride

_Let it ride easy down the road / Let it take away all of this darkness  
Let it rock me in the arms of strangers, angels until it brings me home_

 

Dean sat on the basement stairs and tried not to fidget. He knew the plan. It was a good plan. Okay, it wasn’t a horrible plan. But in his experience, plans and reality usually split up faster than a Hollywood marriage.

Sam and Castiel didn’t look any more at ease than he was. Of course, any bystander would think that they were as cool and collected as could be. But Dean knew their tells. And besides, there weren’t going to be any bystanders. That was why they were back in the pagan dude’s basement, alone and waiting for Lachesis to reappear.

Sam leaned against the far wall and traced the wall engravings with his fingers. Cas paced the room in a slow circle. He was back to wearing that ridiculous trench coat. Dean thought even the Peruvian poncho might have been an improvement. But if he was honest about it, the coat was kind of endearing to him. Out of place, worn down to the threads, but distinctive and dependable – just so _Cas_. His own shirt and skinny jeans were an improvement though. No one could argue that. He did kind of miss the backwards tie though. Might have to add that back into the wardrobe. Dean pictured in his mind taking Cas shopping for some less accountant-y button up shirts to pair with the tie. He’d pick something dark colored and fitted, take him back to the dressing room, button up each button… then button down each button and –

“Dean!”

“What?! The hell, Sam – I’m right here!”

“Yeah well that was the third time I called your name,” Sam replied and gave him bitch face #432 a.k.a. I’m-pretty-sure-I-know-what-you-were-just-thinking plus I-really-do-not-need-to-know-that-stuff.

“Alright alright, what is it?” Dean asked.

“I was just saying that if Lachesis shows up exactly 48 hours from when she left, by my watch that should be any moment,” Sam replied.

_“The moose can add! How charming!”_

Right on time, then. Dean turned toward Lachesis’s voice. Shit! She had already gotten to Cas. He stood stiffly by her while she affected a posture of nonchalance, leaning on her staff and holding out her other hand to examine her fingernails.

'“How are my fav lil’ webels?” she asked in a baby voice.

“Okay Lachesis, now don’t get hasty – ” Dean warned. “We’ve discussed your offer and have come to a decision.”

“You mean I’m not gonna get to take Cassy with me today?” She pouted. “I had so looked forward to it.”

She grabbed Cas by the shoulder and twirled him around. He was handcuffed. Great. Dean hadn’t even known there was such a thing as angel handcuffs. The material looked kind of like the angel blade but there were thin threads of gold running throughout it too. The “silver and gold” Cas had described when he’d asked what happened to his wrists! He fucking knew it! This bitch had a lot to answer for and he was going to damn well make sure she did.

“I was thinking I’d get him a cute matching collar and parade him around for my sis before, you know, taking him to his most ‘timely’ end!” Lachesis giggled. “Atropos may be the boring sister but I think even she’d get a kick out of seeing this.”

“Did Castiel ever tell you two how he unsunk the Titanic? I don’t mean the movie, there’s no help for that.” She looked from him to Sam, questioning. Dean thought Balthazar had been the one mixed up in that. So why was Cas looking so guilty?

“Oh you don’t want me to tell them, do you, Cassy?” Cas glowered at her. “Well don’t be so uptight, dear! It’s not _my_ rod up your ass after all.”

Cas blushed and Lachesis let out a shrill laugh.

“Darling, you are just too precious. Now where was I? Oh yes, Leo and Kate,” Lachesis went on. “Some people will do just about anything for the souls of so many survivors’ descendants. Would have been useful in fighting that misguided holiest of holy wars, wouldn’t it have been, dear?”

No… was that really what had had happened? Cas wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye.

“I’m sure reversing that was quite a blow to His Majesty here, but doing us the favor _did_ keep me and the girls off your two sorry asses. The things we do for love, eh?” Lachesis put a hand over her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. “Needless to say, catching up with this one has been extra satisfying, and not just because it’s not every day an angel’s thread runs out. Those are looong, have you seen one? I’m talking about the thread, Dean baby – get your mind out of the gutter!”

Now it was Dean’s turn to blush. Okay, this had gone on for too long already.

“Well sorry to disappoint you, but today ain’t that day,” Dean told her. He stood up and started to walk toward her. In the corner of his eye he saw Sam approaching as well.

“You made us a group deal, remember?” Sam picked up. “And we’ve decided how we want to do it.”

“Yeah so what you’re gonna do is take all three of our ‘threads of life’ and lay them end to end,” Dean continued. “See how much we have left on our collective timeline, then divide that equally among us. We all get the same time.”

“Awww how romantic!” Lachesis cooed. “Even you, Sam? How generous to _lay_ out yours so your big bro here can keep getting _laid_!”

Sam gave Lachesis bitch face #99. Damn, she’d better watch out.

“Well if that’s what you want.” She shrugged. “I’ll get right on it, boss.”

“Wait!” Dean called out. “How do we know you’ll do it fairly?”

“You don’t trust me? I’m hurt!” She wiped away an invisible tear.

“Just measure out the threads in front of us so we can all see for ourselves,” Sam told her.

“If you _insist_.” Lachesis let out an exaggerated sigh. She reached into the bosom of her dress and pulled out three golden threads.

“ _That’s_ where you keep the threads of life?” Cas asked with horror.

Cas did have a stick up his ass about some things. For his part Dean hadn’t minded the view at all as the hot evil bitch rearranged her cleavage to get at the strings. Hey, no harm in looking.

Lachesis held her staff extended out in front her. She sang to herself cheerfully as she laid out the first thread.

_“Five thousand twenty five hundred six hundred minutes…”_

Dean raised his pistol and aimed square at her head.

“Oh Dean, that’s cute.” Lachesis paused her song and looked at him. “You hate musicals that much?”

Dean lowered his aim to the rod.

Lachesis’s eyes widened as she realized too late what he was about to do.

Dean pulled the trigger and fired the venom-dipped osmium bullet at her staff. The impact split the rod in two like a broken baseball bat and the ends flew away in opposite directions.

“ _NOOOO!!_ ” Lachesis wailed and fell to her knees.  


“How could you do this? My staff! How can I measure anything now?” She blubbered. “The lengths of your lives! Anything could happen now! It will be CHAOS! And it’s all YOUR fault!”

She wiped away some runny mascara with the back of her hand, but she still ended up looking like a raccoon. It was pathetic, really, and Dean would have been sympathetic if she hadn’t been about to kill his angel or lop years off his and Sam’s life expectancies.

Lachesis stumbled to her feet, still sniffling, and went to collect the shards of her staff. She held the broken pieces to her heart.

“This is not the last you’ve heard of me!” She screamed. “My sisters and I are not through with you yet!!”

Then she was gone as suddenly as she had arrived.

Dean rushed over to Cas.

“Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?” Dean fussed over him anxiously, looking for anything out of order.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean leaned over to get a better look at the angel handcuffs.

“There’s a clasp on the side,” Cas told him, “but it won’t respond when I press it.”

Dean saw what Cas was talking about and gave the metal there a squeeze. The handcuffs immediately popped off. Dean stood up and looked them over.

“Huh, I guess it’s just angel proof – ”

He cut off as his arms were suddenly full of angel. Cas embraced Dean tightly and buried his face in his neck.

Dean saw Sam inching backwards toward the stairs. He caught his eye and mouthed “ _Thank you_.” Sam nodded in acknowledgement. He gave Dean a fond smile then turned and shuffled up the stairs.

Dean closed his eyes and ran his fingers through Cas’s hair.

“That was a little too close for comfort,” he commented. Dean felt the adrenaline fade and the tension melt away from his body. Cas was really safe now. He hugged him close and kissed his forehead.

Cas pulled back and looked into Dean’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I never told you what really happened with Atropos,” he said.

“Don’t need to know, and don’t care, Cas. Past is past,” Dean told him. “And with Lachesis out of the way, now we have what’s really important – the present and a totally unknown future.”

“Not totally unknown,” Cas corrected him.

“Oh?”

“I know I want to spend it with the person I love.”

Dean could swear he felt his heart literally swell up. That couldn’t be healthy. He heard every heartbeat in his ears like a bass drum at the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“That’s you, Dean,” Cas clarified.

Dean laughed.

“I figured.”

Cas looked at him with that adorable expression of mild confusion he always got when he wasn’t sure where he’d derailed in the conversation. Dean loved that look.

“I love you too, Cas.”

Dean closed his eyes and kissed Cas softly and slowly. There was no rush now. They had unnumbered days ahead of them.


	14. Oh My God, Whatever, Etc. (Coda)

_But the light of the moon leads the way towards the morning  
And the sun's well on the way too soon to know / And oh my god, whatever, etc._

 

To Dean’s mind, there were two types of virginities a person could lose: the first time they had sex, and the first time they had sex in the Impala.

That was why, two weeks after the Lachesis incident, he had decided it was past time for Cas to cross off another item on the human experiences bucket list. So he had driven Baby to a quiet spot off a country road and found himself now in the backseat with a naked angel in his lap.

“Dean, please,” Cas begged.

“Nope,” Dean replied.

“But _why_?” Cas pleaded between pants.

“‘Cause you’ve been teasing me all day.”

“I don’t understand. What did I do?”

“Stood there all day looking damn irresistible.”

Dean smirked at Cas even though he knew he couldn’t see him behind his back. For about the hundredth time he was thankful that he’d kept the angel handcuffs. He had Cas in quite a state now – hands cuffed behind his back, riding Dean, facing away and completely exposed and without relief.

Dean licked a line up Cas’s spine, eliciting a tantalizing moan.

“Dean _, please._ "

“Uh uh. Now be a good little angel and follow orders. And move faster.”

He knew it irked Cas when he made comments like that. But he also knew that Cas secretly got off on being told what to do. Dean thought it was pretty hot too.

As he’d expected, Cas obliged and picked up the pace. Dean leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. What had he done to get this lucky? After a seemingly endless streak of bad break after worse, here he was having the best sex of his life – and with someone he loved so madly that he knew he should feel freaked out, but somehow he couldn’t feel anything but good about it.

“ _Dean, just, please Dean. Dean!_ ”

Well he wasn’t going to torture the poor guy forever of course.

Dean sat forward and ran his hand up the outside of Cas’s thigh. Cas shuddered in his lap, sending a flash of pleasure through Dean’s body. He held on to Cas’s hip with one hand and gripped his cock in the other. Cas shouted out and thrust into Dean’s hand. It was so hot that Dean only lasted a few more pumps. He came in Cas with a moan, bringing Cas over the edge with him.

Dean collapsed onto Cas’s back and hummed happily. Cas pulled off and awkwardly tried to turn around to face him in the cramped space. Dean unclasped the handcuffs and hooked an arm around Cas’s waist and swung him smoothly back down against the backseat. Dean leaned over his angel and kissed him softly on the lips before closing his eyes and nuzzling into Cas’s neck.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas whispered in his ear.

“Mmmm,” Dean murmured. “Get in line, feathers.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are. And you are seriously insane to love me.” Dean pulled back and looked Cas in the eyes. There was so much love there, it was overwhelming. Dean grinned down at him. “But I’d be a fool not to accept it.” 

 

~*~

 

_“So what do you wanna do now?”_

_“I think we should get a pizza delivery and take a hot shower.”_

_“Cas, we *just had* sex.”_

_“I said nothing about sex.”_

_“But you... Oh I see how it is. You may act all innocent, you sexy son of a bitch, but you are so full of shit and I know it.”_

_“I still want the pizza.”_

_“Which kind – metaphorical or literal pizza?”_

_“Both.”_

_“Hah – okay, count me in. What toppings do you want on the literal one?”_

_“I will have to study all the options on the menu to determine that.”_

_“Nooo way, Jose.”_

_“My name is not Jose.”_

_“I know, Jesus!”_

_“My name is not - “_

_“CAS. TI. EL. I know your damn name!”_

_“…”_

_“You’re totally doing that on purpose.”_

_“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“Dean?”_

_“Yeah, Cas?”_

_“I know what I want with my metaphorical pizza.”_

_“I bet you do.”_

_“I think we should probably have the literal shower *after* the metaphorical pizza.”_

_“This is the weirdest flirting I have ever experienced.”_

_“You love it.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love you, Cas. I really, really do.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading it a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you at the Dean Cas Big Bang!


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